


Turnabout Brothers

by Minmei



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series, Layton Kyouju vs Gyakuten Saiban | Professor Layton vs. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Angst, Courtroom Drama, Drama, Family Drama, Gen, Other, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:44:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minmei/pseuds/Minmei
Summary: The battle for Desmond Sycamore's freedom begins! (Sequel to the Professor Layton fic, "Storm's End.")





	1. Prologue

"...So then, you have an opportunity to fight it."

"I have an opportunity to set things right."

The girl, his visitor, tightened her hold around the receiver. "But...you still have a lawyer. He's supposed to defend you, isn't he?"

A glass pane separated the two, yet her dark eyes easily pierced into his, projecting confusion and hurt. "He will defend me by acknowledging my guilty plea," the man told her. "I realize this is difficult to take in--"

The girl's features twisted into a scowl. "Y...you're not even going to fight? You're just going to accept spending the rest of your life in prison, and that's that? I misjudged you, Professor Sycamore. I thought you cared about the people who care about you."

In contrast, Sycamore was gazing at her sympathetically. "I do care, believe me."

"Then why won't you fight?!" she demanded, slamming her free hand on the counter space as she leaned forward.

He was stunned by such a forceful query. The sight of the girl fuming left him searching for words, but finding none.

"...So that's it," the girl said after a long silence. "You don't even care enough to tell me." She shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. "Well, if that's how you feel, then fine! I don't care, either. I never want to see you again!" Dropping the receiver, she pushed back her chair and quickly left the booth.

Sycamore's expression grew more sorrowful, and he hung up his own receiver with a heavy sigh.

"Flora..."


	2. The Unluckiest Man Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A renowned scientist stands trial for multiple crimes.

The man's face flushed, his heart pumping at an all too familiar rate. His hands grew clammy, the temperature rising beneath his blue suit. All the while, he asked himself... Why? Why was every case the same? Why, after three years, hadn't he learned to calm his nerves before a trial?

At least, this time, it wasn't a murder case. On the other hand, his client had been charged with multiple crimes, most of them serious.

And he was guilty...

"Mr. Wright?"

He turned to see a man in a dark business suit with a red tie, and matching red-rimmed glasses. Standing at roughly Phoenix's height, he had brown eyes and brown hair that curled at the ends. Concern had replaced his normally gentle expression, though it seemed more for the one he had addressed, rather than for the direness of his own situation.

Phoenix Wright inwardly flinched, realizing he had unintentionally dropped what should have been a convincing poker face. "Oh, um, what is it, Mr. Sycamore?"

Desmond Sycamore was an archaeologist who, for the past several years, had been living a double life that unfortunately included a long list of crimes. It seemed almost a stroke of luck that Phoenix had shown up in London not long after the man had turned himself in. "You appear to be lost in thought. Is something the matter?"

"Oh, no, of course not! I was just mentally going over the arguments I anticipate the prosecution coming up with, and the points I have to counter..."

"Then why do you look absolutely miserable?"

 _Yikes!_ Phoenix's face flushed. _I forgot the number one rule of being Mia Fey's disciple._ _A lawyer always smiles, no matter how bad things get._ He started to put this teaching into practice when a young woman interrupted.

"Oh, don't mind him, Mr. Sycamore!" Maya Fey cut in. Younger sister to the deceased Mia, she had assisted Phoenix behind the bench for three years. She wore unusual robes and sandals, her long black hair loosely tied behind her back. "Nick may look like a nervous wreck before court...and sometimes during...heck, even toward the end, but he always goes in like it's the fight of his life! Actually, sometimes it is the fight of his life..."

"Gee...thanks...Maya..." Phoenix said through gritted teeth. "Um, anyway, Mr. Sycamore, don't worry about a thing! I've gone over the case plenty of times before this morning. The prosecution can throw whatever they want at me. I'll send it right back at them!"

"Yeah..." Maya suddenly looked disappointed. "We should be okay, considering who the prosecutor is. I mean...that's the best they could come up with? That weirdo who gave us nothing but grief the last time we were here?"

"That's what was decided, Maya. I was really hoping Edgeworth would be at that bench, since he was basically in charge of the case, but I guess he wanted to be involved with the investigation more than anything else."

"This Mr. Edgeworth...he sounds like an important figure," Sycamore suddenly commented. "Did you, by any chance, study beneath him, Mr. Wright?"

Phoenix's jaw practically dropped to the floor. "Wh-what?! Of course not!"

"Oh." Sycamore was stunned by the reaction. "I did not intend any offense, Mr. Wright. It's just that, with the way you speak of him, I assume he had acted as some sort of mentor to you."

"Ugh...no, no, I mean...haha. Ahem." A sheepish Phoenix attempted to compose himself. "You didn't offend me, Mr. Sycamore. Edgeworth's not my mentor...but in a way, you could say he taught me a thing or two about law."

"I see."

The sound of a door opening prompted Phoenix to straighten his posture. "Oh, looks like we'll be starting soon. We'd better get inside."

* * *

"The court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Desmond Sycamore." All eyes were on the man in the white wig as he made the announcement from the judge's seat.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," said Phoenix.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," said a soft but snooty voice. It belonged to a bespectacled man with thinning blond hair and a green jacket.

"Very good." The judge nodded. "Welcome back, Mr. Wright. I did not expect to see you again so soon in this courtroom."

"Likewise, Your Honor. It's good to be back."

"Well, well, well," the prosecutor, a man named Flynch, cut in. "We meet again, Mr. Wright. Now I will repay the humiliation you inflicted upon me mere weeks ago!"

Though such words did not come as a surprise to Phoenix, they still rubbed him the wrong way. "If...if you say so..."

"Mr. Flynch, you appear rather eager this morning," the judge remarked. "Perhaps you could give us your opening statement?"

The man's weasel-like grin only broadened. "Gladly, Your Honor. The defendant, Desmond Sycamore, stands accused of kidnapping, extortion, criminal damage, and attempted murder. It would be my pleasure to prove that the defendant is guilty of all he stands accused."

"What pleasure would that be?" asked Phoenix. "My client has already entered a guilty plea."

Flynch's face fell briefly before the smile returned... though this time, strained. "W-well, of course he has, Mr. Wright! And how wise of you to support his decision. You both must have known I was to stand in court today. And what a pity-- I had rather hoped this would be a challenge."

"I'm not finished."

"What?"

"We are going ahead with the guilty plea, but there will still be a trial."

Flynch laughed. "Mr. Wright, surely you are not a masochist?"

"Sometimes I think he's the masochist," came the voice to Phoenix's right.

"Shh, Maya," said Phoenix.

"Drawing out your client's crimes in great detail..." the prosecutor continued. "...haha, hmm...well, you are nothing if not brave."

"Bravery has nothing to do with it," Phoenix told him. "Our purpose is this... to uncover the entire truth of the matter. It is true that my client is guilty, but that by itself is not the entire truth. During this trial, it will all become clear. I am prepared for whatever may be revealed here. Can you say the same?"

"Wh-wha..." Flynch's second attempt at getting under Phoenix's skin had failed, he saw. Still, he did his best to recover. "O-of course I'm prepared! This is a trial I will not lose, after all! Give me everything you've got, Mr. Wright."

"Oh, you bet I will."

The judge cleared his throat loudly. "This is a court of law, you two. Save the fight for after the trial. Now, as Mr. Sycamore has entered a plea of guilty, we will examine each of his crimes and their impact on those victimized. Mr. Flynch, I understand you have multiple witnesses ready to testify?"

The sneer returned. "But of course. I trust that twenty is enough?"

This time, Phoenix was unable to conceal his shock. "T-twenty?! You mean you found twenty people to testify for this trial?" _I don't even run into that many over two trials... then again, our initial trials are pretty short..._

"Oh, no, no, no. I've found much more than that. You see, Mr. Wright, your client has been a rather naughty man, and has earned the ire of nearly everyone subjected to his cruelty. There are easily a hundred waiting, I assure you. But as we'll only get through a portion of Mr. Sycamore's crimes today, the twenty should suffice. Is this not so, Your Honor?"

The judge nodded. "I imagine we will only require a fraction of that number today, but your preparation is to be commended."

"Ugh..." Phoenix felt the first drop of sweat begin to form on his forehead. _No way. Edgeworth didn't even hint at that many witnesses..._

Flynch looked over, noticing Phoenix's reaction. "What is it, Mr. Wright?" he asked mockingly. "Did you think I would be so careless after last time? Heh heh... I will enjoy wiping that smug look off of your face."

"Well, first you'd have to look smug," Maya commented quietly. "C'mon, Nick, don't show that face. Remember what Sis used to say."

"Urrgh...I know, I know..." Phoenix took a deep breath to compose himself.

"Now, I shall continue," Flynch said. "Desmond Sycamore is a highly respected archaeologist who specialized in ancient civilizations, or at least one in particular. I will show how he misused funds from multiple institutions in order to carry out his nefarious plots. This court will know the injury he inflicted upon tens of thousands of people through deception, abduction, extortion and attempted murder. And then I will reveal the undeniable truth behind the additional crimes he committed to attain his ultimate goal – a chance at great fortune, and to go down in history as the man who singlehandedly solved the riddle of the Azran."

 _He would love for that to be Mr. Sycamore's true motive, wouldn't he?_ Phoenix shook his head, and gave a bold smirk. "Hate to break it to you, Mr. Flynch, but if that's the road you're on, you may want to consider backpedaling a bit."

The man simply chuckled. "Already trying to distract the court from the truth, are you, Mr. Wright? Don't worry, you'll get your chance to refute everything I say here today. Did I say refute? I meant to which pitifully sputter in response."

"Say what you will. I'm ready."

"That's the spirit! Now, as I was saying... some years ago, Mr. Sycamore studied the Azran civilization, eventually becoming an authority on the subject. Certainly, at some point, as countless others before him, he learned of an 'ultimate riddle' to solve, and the riches that would surely follow. Naturally, he succumbed to his greed, devising elaborate plots to attain the Azran treasure... at all costs."

"A great treasure..." murmured the judge. "Well, I could see how anyone might be tempted."

Flynch was showing a smirk. "Right you are, Your Honor."

Phoenix felt his stomach squirm. _Please don't encourage him, Your Honor..._

"To achieve his goals, he researched the conditions under which he would gain this treasure. First, he had to locate the sites of three specific ancient ruins, and activate them. Activating these sites would reveal the final location of the Azran treasure, and also initiate a new mission to construct a 'key,' with which he used to access the final site. But before that, he met with several institutions to obtain funding for this endeavor – funding that, I shall add, he abused for his own selfish purposes."

"Objection!" shouted Phoenix. "What proof do you have that he abused these funds?!"

"I'm so glad you asked, Mr. Wright," Flynch replied, the smirk becoming a full-blown grin. "We have retrieved copies of the agreements between Mr. Sycamore and these institutions, as well as eyewitness accounts of how the money was used. For example, in none of these records was it specified that Mr. Sycamore use the money to build machines to vandalize and damage parts of a town, including residential areas in which citizens were living. He was not instructed to build a disposable theater and a machine of destruction, or purchase seacraft to abduct and transport people. He did not have permission to create elaborate hoaxes for entertainment purposes in a different city, and then endanger lives by causing an event comparable to a natural disaster. Oh...hohohoho. As I said, Mr. Wright, your client has been... shall we say... very busy these last few years."

"Ugh..." _When he states it like that, I'm almost ready to put Mr. Sycamore behind bars myself, defense be damned. But... I can't give in this early! Before the end of this trial, Mr. Sycamore's side must be told in its entirety._

"Though each university was generous with their records, unfortunately, they have not decided whether or not to press charges. That being the case, I will outline the first part of Mr. Sycamore's plot. Mr. Sycamore discovered that the first Azran site was located within the vicinity of the town Misthallery. Some may recall, it was also in several news publishings at one point."

The judge nodded. "Ah, yes, Misthallery. Charming place. I have had the honor of meeting the former mayor... Clark Triton, I believe?"

"Yes, Your Honor. As it happens, he was the mayor when these events were occurring. And in fact, his own family was directly affected by Mr. Sycamore's plot!"

"You don't say!"

"Mr. Sycamore kidnapped both Mr. Triton's wife and butler, and used their well-being as a means to control Mr. Triton himself. As any devoted husband and father, Mr. Triton would do anything to ensure the safety of his family."

"Mr. Sycamore did all of that...?" The judge could scarcely contain his shock. "The scoundrel!"

Phoenix shifted his weight uncomfortably, trying not to swallow the lump in his throat. _And again, the pendulum swings to the side of doom for my case._

"Oh, and isn't he?!" Flynch said gleefully. "By the way, the Triton family is here today, waiting in the lobby. I intend to bring in at least one of them soon enough...but first, I will focus on the machines that were built to perform excavations on the town."

"Excavations?" asked the judge. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"Yes, if you ignore the fact that men were blackmailed into assembling these machines."

"Wh-what?!"

"Yes, extortion is a theme here," said Flynch. "He forced the chief engineer of a local factory into building the machines. And the man had just retired as well! I will let him tell his story – he is my first witness."

The judge nodded. "Very well. Please call this engineer to the stand."

* * *

_No,_ Phoenix thought defeatedly, nearly ten minutes later. _It's much too early to be so thoroughly whipped... so to speak._

Flynch's chuckle did nothing to alleviate Phoenix's feeling of dread. "...And would you say Mr. Sycamore blackmailed you into building the machine?" he asked the engineer, who was at the witness' stand.

The very question caused the man's face to redden. "Blackmail? He coerced, bullied, threatened, told me I would lose my home and family if I didn't do as he wished. Aye, I would say he blackmailed me."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, let it be known that the defendant threatened harm to both the witness and his loved ones. Though no physical harm was dealt, there were still consequences for this gentleman here. Witness, would you tell the court what happened five years ago, as well as subsequent years?"

"When this... Mr. Sycamore first had me build the machines, it put a tremendous amount of strain on me, as well as my relationships. My wife couldn't understand why I suddenly wanted out of retirement, or why I was back at the factory, and at all hours of the day. She was so angry with me, and she had every right to be. Eventually, she demanded a divorce, but before that could happen, the Golden Garden was found, and that horrible man had disappeared. Afterward, I told her everything, and we were able to move on together."

Flynch tsk-tsked, showing a face with exaggerated sympathy. "So your marriage suffered awhile, but that wasn't all, was it?"

The elder man shook his head no. "My health...took a dive. The long hours and the stress of keeping Mr. Sycamore and his lackeys away from my family... it all got to me. Used to be I didn't have to take medicine to stay healthy. Suddenly my blood pressure was though the roof, and the doctors worried about my heart. I'm finally at a place where I'm managing, but I'll always remember what that man put me and my family through. It was the worst year of my life."

"And there it is, Your Honor. Mr. Sycamore tormented this good man day in and day out for a year, nearly destroying his relationships and even causing harm to his health. And yet, there are some who believe the defendant shouldn't be punished to the fullest extent of the law, and would even stoop to justify what he has done... scoundrels of the lowest kind, to be sure."

"Objection!" Phoenix exclaimed. "Your Honor, the prosecution should stick to the facts of the case instead of hurling thinly veiled insults at the defense!"

The older man nodded. "Mr. Flynch, please refrain from suggesting that the defense is on the same level as the defendant. Although, I don't see the use in defending someone accused of that many crimes..."

Phoenix slumped where he stood. _Thanks a lot, Your Honor._

Flynch chuckled again. "Yes, Your Honor. I suppose when something is that evident, words are not needed. Now, witness, you've had to interact with Mr. Sycamore many times over the course of a year. How is your health today, being in his presence?"

"I dunno what you mean," said the man, a bewildered look on his face. "But as soon as I face him again, I'll tell you."

Flynch's merriment vanished. "What? What are you talking about? He's right here."

"Where?"

"In...in the defendant's seat!" a flustered Flynch exclaimed. "Please tell me your vision didn't suffer along with your blood pressure!"

"How dare you? My vision is the same as it was then! I can see the man in the chair just fine. But if anyone is raising my blood pressure today, it's you!"

 _Wow_ , though Phoenix. _That went south, fast. I wonder...could this all be a misunderstanding?_

His thoughts were interrupted by the gavel hitting its sound block. "If I may, witness, Mr. Flynch," started the judge. "Witness, is the man sitting in the defendant's chair the same man you met five years ago?"

The engineer shrugged. "Honestly, I couldn't say."

"Wh, wh..." Flynch was sputtering. "And why is that?!"

"The man I met was in some sort of costume. Mask, cape, and all that. Never saw him without it. Until today, I didn't even know his real name. Always called himself...'Descole,' I believe. If the man in the chair was him, I wouldn't know."

"Wow," murmured Maya. "We didn't have to give Flynch any rope at all. He supplied it, then hanged himself completely."

"Hmph." The judge bowed his head. "Then this testimony was pointless. If we can't confirm the one who blackmailed the witness was indeed Mr. Sycamore..."

"Errgh..." Flynch was the one hunched over now, attempting to salvage the pieces of his case. "Well, perhaps...I...we...we can..."

"Yes, Mr. Flynch?"

"We...can get the witness to describe this costume, and search the defendant's home? Yes, I think it's worth a try..."

 _They can search for it, but they won't find it,_ thought Phoenix. "Your Honor, if I may interrupt?"

The judge nodded. "You may."

"I would like to request a thirty minute break."

"For what purpose, Mr. Wright?"

"I need to discuss with my client the whereabouts of this costume, and of course, share this information with Mr. Flynch."

"Share information?" Flynch repeated incredulously. "Do you take me for a fool, Mr. Wright? You know where this disguise is, and intend to keep its location hidden from this court!"

Phoenix felt himself growing hot beneath the collar. "No, no, no..."

"During the break, you will obviously have someone take the costume from Mr. Sycamore's home!"

"Is this true, Mr. Wright?" asked the judge.

"No, absolutely not!" insisted Phoenix. "Just listen! First off, Mr. Sycamore doesn't own a home anymore. His last known residence was an airship known as the Bostonius. Sometimes he'd keep it at the airdrome here, but not recently."

"I see... then you're saying he no longer owns this airship? Where exactly is it now?"

"It was destroyed in a crash about two or three weeks ago. But that doesn't matter now--"

"Doesn't matter?!" Flynch exclaimed. "Your Honor, you see what the defense is trying to do--"

"Order, order!" the judge bellowed, repeatedly bringing down his gavel. Murmurs among the audience followed. "Mr. Flynch, your concern is noted, but I do not believe Mr. Wright is attempting to deceive the court. Mr. Wright, I will grant your request for a break. We will reconvene in thirty minutes." One final pound of the gavel barely masked Flynch's whimpering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I will confess to not knowing crap about law or the courts; most of my knowledge comes from the AA games and movies/media with lawyers. I am following the court system from the AA games and PL vs AA, but since it is kind of a weird AU with an Initial Trial system, I think I can get away with it. Or I hope, anyway. This isn't to say I'm not looking some things up, but if it contradicts game canon too much, I might write around it.
> 
> As mentioned in the summary, this story is a direct sequel to the PL fic, "Storm's End." So if there is any confusion on how certain people know one another, I hope a quick read will clear that up.  
> I can't promise speedy updates or the best fic (since my skills have been regressing as of late), but stay tuned, and thanks for reading.


	3. Specters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynch gets more than what he bargained for. A chilly reunion awaits Sycamore.

Moments later, Phoenix, Maya and Sycamore entered the defendant's lobby, only to be greeted by a familiar face.

"Professor Layton?!" Phoenix said with surprise. "I thought you weren't coming until later."

The man in the top hat nodded. "That was my initial plan. However, it would seem I was unable to convince someone to go with me."

Sycamore's face fell. "Then that means...a certain young lady is still rather angry with me."

"You must understand, Desmond--"

"I do, better than anyone. The day I discovered the man I had admired all my life was anything but admirable, I could scarcely contain my rage. What Flora feels about me... she has every right. We had a bond, and I destroyed it with the sins of my past."

"Who's Flora?" asked Maya.

"An orphan girl that Layton has chosen to foster. I regret our last meeting..." Sycamore almost looked depressed, recalling the memory.

"She was angry, as you put it," Layton said. "I tried to reason with her, but she threw herself into school activities that were... shall we say... not previously planned."

"Ouch," said Phoenix. "I get that the idea of you being in prison is terrible, Mr. Sycamore, but why is Flora that upset?"

"To tell you the truth...I, too, had been looking after her as I would my own daughter," Sycamore replied. "Because of that, I'm not pleased with how I handled everything. I just thought that if I proceeded with my plan and turned myself in, that it would wound less. It...hasn't. I can imagine how she feels."

"I warned you this would happen, Desmond," Layton told him. "I have been trying to provide Flora with as much stability as possible, considering her past. The last thing she needs is one more person promising to guide her, and then failing to follow through on that promise."

Sycamore looked ruffled by the remark. "Layton," he started, somewhat irked, "you may be my brother, but that does not mean it is your duty to lecture me."

Maya's jaw dropped. "Wh-what?!"

"Professor Layton!" Phoenix exclaimed, equally shocked. "You... you two are brothers?!"

"We are," Layton replied. "Though it was only in the last year we reconnected. We were close as children, but an incident left us orphaned, and adopted by different families."

"Oh..." Maya brought a hand to her mouth. "That's so sad. But at least you found each other again."

"It isn't that," Sycamore told her. "I deliberately kept my distance, for my own reasons. I didn't... I didn't want Layton caught up in the evil forces that tore our family apart. I knew if we met, he would put two and two together. In the end, I failed to prevent this meeting...he eventually was drawn to my world, and of his own accord."

"I've always wondered how true that was," Layton said. "For the longest time, I turned away from archaeology. I thought...I simply had no interest in it. But a friend awakened that interest, and then... something stirred within me, something I couldn't explain...a long, forgotten feeling from the past. I thought I had been pursuing archaeology to honor my friend, but it was more than that. I had realized my true purpose. It was inevitable Desmond and I would meet again, and face the truth and tragedy of our past."

"I am truly sorry I initiated that meeting as my worst self, Layton."

"I know, Desmond. But that, too, was inevitable. You had suffered additional losses that even the strongest would find difficult to bear. What Targent and Bronev did to you, you did not deserve. I just...I just wish you had reached out to me earlier."

Desmond nodded sadly. "Yes. I see how wrong I was now. Your help would have been invaluable even back then. We might have stopped Targent sooner..."

"Uhh..." Phoenix chuckled nervously. "I don't mean to interrupt, but we do need to get a move on. Half an hour and all."

"Oh, yes. What did you need, Mr. Wright?"

"Information about the costume. That engineer said you were in disguise when you ordered him to build those machines. Can you describe what you wore, and if you happen to have any spare costumes lying around?"

"W-well..." Sycamore exchanged a look with Layton. "I did have spare costumes on the Bostonius, but when I examined the wreckage site, I could only salvage a few pieces. Not enough to complete a recognizable outfit."

"So, basically, no one can prove you were the one in disguise at the time?"

"Oh, no, there is one completed outfit currently in the police's possession. A dark business suit with matching tie, dress shirt ruffled at the wrists, dark dress shoes with a white toe. A feather boa and cape, white mask and dark hat with ear flaps. I wore this ensemble as I turned myself in. In other words, the police already have evidence I have presented myself as 'Jean Descole'."

"Who?" Maya asked.

"Descole, the masked man that the engineer mentioned," Phoenix told her, then turned back to Sycamore. "Okay, so...Flynch needs evidence you were going around as Descole, the scientist who was blackmailing the engineer. Are you willing to give him that?"

Sycamore nodded without hesitation. "Yes, Mr. Wright. As I told you, the entire story must be revealed. There are several in this country that would rest well, knowing the man who tormented them and their loved ones was dealt with in a swift and satisfying manner."

 _Is it just me, or is he almost pushing for this, like he's eager to punish himself?_ Phoenix thought, a vaguely familiar feeling coming to him. "All right. Maya and I will head for the prosecutor's lobby. Professor Layton, will you stay here with Mr. Sycamore?"

"Of course, Mr. Wright," Layton replied.

* * *

"So this is what the prosecutor's side is like," remarked Maya and she and Phoenix walked down the corridor. "I wonder which lobby Flynch will--"

_"Aaaarrggghhh!"_

"Number two," Phoenix replied nonchalantly, recognizing Flynch's high-pitched outbursts.

Approaching the entrance, Maya grabbed the handle and slowly pulled open one of the doors. Inside, a visibly upset Flynch was kneeling on the floor, frantically collecting papers and other items that had spilled onto the floor. Nearby was an open brown case, along with its severed handle.

 _Ooh,_ thought Phoenix. _That's bad luck._ He cleared his throat. "Err...Mr. Flynch, are you all right? Maya and I heard a scream."

"What?!" Flynch paused briefly to look up, red-faced and on the verge of perspiring. "Oh. Mr. Wright, so you came."

"I'm here too," Maya retorted, annoyed at the omission.

"Yes, yes. I was moving my case to the chair here when this cheap lock came loose! Everything fell out, and before I could curse my luck, the sodding handle broke off as well! As you can see, I have many things to gather up."

"We'll help you." Phoenix stepped forward and knelt down in front of a scattered set of papers, as well as a few mementos.

"Oh, well...thank you."

"Don't mention it." Phoenix was stacking together sheets when Maya nudged him.

"Hey. Hey Nick. Check it out." In her hand was a photograph of an older woman, one who had been captured at an unfortunate angle. "It says 'Ida Flynch' on the back. Think he comes home to her every night?"

 _If he does, then woof,_ Phoenix thought in reflex. "I don't know, Maya. Just pick up those pens and tablets and give it all back to the guy."

"What are you two whispering about?" Flynch demanded. "I would appreciate it if you would refrain from looking at my case materials!"

"Huh? Oh, no, no... it's just, Maya found this picture of your wife and I wanted to make sure it wasn't damaged."

"Picture...wife...?" Flynch asked, puzzled at first. When it connected for him, he rose to his feet, an appalled expression on his face. "Mr. Wright! That is a photograph of my dear departed mother! What makes you think I would even..."

Phoenix quickly held up his free palm, taken aback. "Wh-whoa! I didn't mean anything by it, really! She just looked kind of young to be your mom, is all."

That appeared to calm the prosecutor down. "Oh, well, it has been fifteen years since her passing. She was my greatest inspiration, you see. You could say she picked my career path."

"Mama's boy," Maya said under her breath.

Phoenix quietly shushed her. Then, to Flynch, he said, "I'm sorry to hear of her passing. What about your father? Is he still alive?"

"No," Flynch replied. "He died five years before she did. She never did remarry, or even think of finding anyone else."

"Probably too busy keeping you a mama's boy," Maya murmured.

Phoenix burst into awkward, high-pitched laughter, in the hopes of masking his companion's comment. "Oh, wow! I guess they were really in love, huh? I mean it's unfortunate they died as young as they did, but it's rare these days to hear a couple taking 'until death do us part' seriously."

Flynch knelt back down and picked up several folders full of case material. "You're so right, Mr. Wright. When I think of the sheer number of divorce settlements I've handled these last few years, it does seem rare."

Phoenix and Maya approached the man, handing him their collection.

"Anyway," started Phoenix. "I have a message from my client. The costume you were trying to find is already in custody of the police. You'll need to get in touch with the person who handles evidence at Scotland Yard. They'll know what you're talking about, because Mr. Sycamore actually turned himself in while wearing the disguise."

"Oh?" Flynch raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't on the report I received. How do I know I can trust you?"

"Go ahead and talk to the inspector who was on the Azran case. An Inspector...Grosky, I believe?" _Now that I think about it, it's weird he isn't here._ "He'll tell you whether I'm lying or not. What do you have to lose?"

"Well...aren't you forthcoming with information today? If...if what you say is true, then thank you. Why you would hammer another nail into your client's coffin isn't any concern of mine, I suppose."

"I don't care for your attitude, Mr. Flynch," Phoenix said, "but you're welcome. See you in a few minutes. Come on, Maya."

* * *

"This court will now reconvene..." The judge trailed off, noticing the man standing awkwardly behind the prosecutor's bench, appearing greatly flustered.

"What's up with Flynch?" Maya asked.

Phoenix shrugged slightly. "Who knows? Maybe he didn't like what the police had to tell him."

"Mr. Flynch?" asked the judge. "Is the prosecution ready?"

"Two days, my shoe!" squeaked the man. "Inspector Grosky's missing, the evidence is locked away... I'd already planned out my witnesses! I can't have the court missing out on crucial testimony because someone refuses to do their job! Aaargh!" Then, seeing that all attention was on him, Flynch composed himself quickly, clearing his throat. "Ah, yes. The prosecution is ready, Your Honor. Albeit, ah, with some unforeseen changes."

The judge nodded. "I see. Mr. Wright?"

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Phoenix replied.

"Before the recess, you mentioned knowing the location of your client's disguise. Shall I assume you've imparted this information to Mr. Flynch?"

"Yes, and it sounds like it's giving him trouble."

"But it's nothing I can't handle, I assure you," Flynch cut in.

"Weren't you just picking yourself up off the floor a few seconds ago?" Maya murmured dryly.

"According to Mr. Wright's report, his client's disguise is in possession of the police. Unfortunately, at this time, they have not completed analysis, and it will be two days before we can obtain the disguise."

"In other words," said the judge, "Since you are unable to produce this disguise, your witness' testimony was a waste of time."  
  


"N-no, not at all, Your Honor!" Flynch exclaimed. " _Ugh, why does he keep saying that...?_ We at least know the extent of the culprit's crimes. Verifying the identity of this 'Descole' will occur once we are in possession of his disguise. In the meantime, I have at least five more witnesses waiting to testify in regards to the Misthallery incident."

 _Great_ , thought Phoenix.

"Very well, Mr. Flynch. Please call your next witness."

* * *

An attractive young woman appeared at the witness' chair moments later. With long brown hair and a warm smile, there was a familiar air about her.

"Witness, please state your name and profession for the court," Flynch instructed.

"Brenda Triton," the woman stated. "I'm a housewife and mother, though I also travel and conduct research in my spare time."

"Triton..." Maya whispered. "Hey Nick, do you think...?"

Phoenix nodded. "There's definitely a resemblance, so you're probably right."

Flynch adjusted his specs, which had slid halfway down the bridge of his nose. "Mrs. Triton, do you know the defendant, Mr. Desmond Sycamore?"

"I met him once," she replied, expression unchanging. "Professor Hershel Layton introduced us. But even if he hadn't, Mr. Sycamore has also acquired some fame as a professor within the world of archaeology."

"And are you aware of the crimes Mr. Sycamore has been charged with?"

Brenda nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Mrs. Triton, you were abducted nearly four years ago, correct?"

"Yes. My family and I were living in Misthallery then."

"Please testify to the court about this incident."

"Of course. It all started when when our butler, Doland Noble, began to display some odd behaviors. When I attempted to investigate, he managed to trap me beneath the floor of our house's wine cellar. Imagine my surprise when I found the real Doland tied up there! The man disguised as Doland had been carrying out his own investigation of the town and its surroundings, but couldn't do it openly. Because of this, my husband and son greatly suffered, as did other residents of the town."

The judge took a moment to absorb the testimony. "So a man kidnapped you and your butler and kept you in a wine cellar, and was also impersonating the butler. I see..." He glanced over at the defense. "Mr. Wright, you may proceed with the cross-examination."

"Yes, Your Honor," said Phoenix. "Mrs. Triton, you mentioned that your butler 'began to display some odd behaviors.' What did you mean by that?"

"Oh, just things here and there," Brenda told him. "For example, he would forget about traditions we had celebrated for years. His penmanship suddenly turned illegible, and he began spending an unusual amount of time with my husband Clark. For a while, I feared he was overworked, or possibly ill. He wasn't himself... and it seems that part was true."

"Did you know anything about what the impostor intended at the time?"

"No. When I thought he was Doland, I overheard part of a conversation he was having on the telephone. He mentioned 'Highyard Hill' and 'Barde Manor' but nothing else. I had no idea of the scope of the plot he had been carrying out these last few years."

"You said your family and the residents of the town suffered. Was it due to this plot?"

"Yes," Brenda replied. "Clark threw himself into his work more than usual, and other times he seemed distracted. My son Luke grew increasingly withdrawn as the night attacks began. Incidentally, he speaks highly of you, Mr. Wright."

"He's a good kid, Mrs. Triton, and will undoubtedly be a true gentleman. But about these attacks... can you go into detail?"

"At first, it appeared that a monster was wreaking havoc in the streets of our town. Many mistakenly believed it was the specter from the town's legend."

"Why is that?"

"According to the legend, the specter, summoned by song, would appear in the fog. When these attacks took place, the town was blanketed in a thick fog, and we would hear a melody being played on an ocarina. Afterward, the specter would withdraw... at least until the next incident."

Phoenix nodded. "So Luke kept to himself because he was scared of the specter?"

"At first. Then, after I was kidnapped, Clark said that Luke rarely left his room. As for Clark, he knew that I had been abducted, but the man posing as Doland threatened harm to me and Doland if Clark did not go along with his plans."

"It is public knowledge that the 'specter' was in fact the excavation machines locked in battle with a large creature from the nearby lake. The machines were attempting to dig into the streets while the creature was doing what she could to stop them."

"You did your homework, Mr. Wright," Brenda remarked. "Yes, the truth was not as simple as it seemed. Still, the citizens of Misthallery were terrified by these events. It was a miracle no human lives were lost, considering the damage to the buildings. It took over a year to rebuild according to the new mayor."

"In other words," a smug Flynch interjected, "Mr. Sycamore terrorized the citizens of Misthallery while causing ruin to their beloved town. In addition to that, he caused this innocent woman and her family much distress. Yet another family put to the test because of the callousness of your client, Mr. Wright. Do you see a pattern?"

"Objection!" Phoenix shouted. "Mr. Flynch, my client has already pleaded guilty. We are not here to establish whether or not he terrorized a town or caused harm to people."

"I realize that, Mr. Wright. What _you_ don't seem to realize is the damage being done to your case should you decide to appeal."

 _He's right,_ thought Phoenix. _Mr. Sycamore needs to have his side told, but that doesn't mean I should let his character be throroughly destroyed._ "Witness," he continued, turning back to Brenda, "You mentioned being locked in the wine cellar with your butler. Can you give more details about the ordeal?"

"Well, just before the impostor led me to the cellar, he served me tea. He must have put something in my cup, because I started to feel faint. The next thing I knew, I was beneath the floor with Doland calling to me."

"How was the impostor during this time? Did he do anything to you, other than kidnap you?"

"Well, no. He occasionally visited to make sure we were fed, and would ignore our questions about Clark and Luke. We couldn't get anything out of him."

"So aside from being locked up, the two of you were in good health?"

"Physically, yes. Otherwise, we were stressed out about the situation."

The exchange only amused the prosecution. "Mr. Wright," Flynch said, chuckling. "Surely you are not suggesting that your client only had good intentions, or that he suddenly had a change of heart?"

"No, Mr. Flynch," Phoenix retorted. "But unlike you, I recognize that humans are complex, and their situations complicated, even with behavioral patterns. Now, do you have other concerns, or may I continue this line of questioning?"

Flynch was stunned. "I... urk...!"

Phoenix turned back to the witness. "Mrs. Triton, it must have been harrowing, to say the least, and I don't intend to minimize your experience in any way, but did anything seem out of the ordinary, that you can think of?"

"Well..." The woman mulled over her response. "I was mostly worried for Clark and Luke. I feared what Doland's impostor might possibly do to them."

"Why is that out of the ordinary?"

"It didn't even occur to me that he could have caused harm to me as well. He was a frightening presence, but he never once laid a hand on Doland or me."

"One last thing...the man who kidnapped you and Doland...do you see him in the courtroom today?"

"No," said Brenda. "The man who kept us in that cellar always kept his face hidden. I only saw him as Doland and no one else. If Professor Sycamore is that man, then I have no way of confirming that."

Phoenix nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Triton. No further questions."

"Mr. Flynch?" said the judge. "Was there anything else you needed to add?"

"No, Your Honor," Flynch replied, having recovered from his earlier shock. "I believe we have sufficiently established that this 'Doland impostor' committed multiple crimes within Misthallery. Unfortunately, we are still waiting on decisive evidence which connects Mr. Desmond Sycamore to this impostor. In the meantime, I would also like to mention just how far back this plot went."

 _Uh-oh_ , thought Phoenix. _I don't like where this is going..._

"You see, in the year before the nightly attacks began, a well-known resident of Misthallery experienced a fatal fall. His name was Evan Barde, and he left behind two children."

"How tragic!" exclaimed the judge.

"Indeed, Your Honor. In the months following Mr. Barde's death, which initially was ruled a suicide, Mr. Sycamore here plotted with the former police chief, Levin Jakes, to change Mr. Barde's will. This caused his estate to go to Clark Triton instead of the Barde children. The children were left by themselves, and forced to dismiss the house staff one by one, due to dwindling funds."

"Outrageous! To steal from those poor children..."

"Outrageous and true," Flynch said. "Mr. Sycamore obviously wanted the fortune to go to a person under his control, so that he could access it from the shadows when the time came. Such a cruel thing to do, when Mr. Barde clearly intended the entirety of his estate to go his children..." He looked at Phoenix. "Well, Mr. Wright? What do you have to say? Can you still defend a man who would steal from orphaned children in their most vulnerable state?"

The courtroom only seemed to echo the judge's reaction.

"I wonder how much of that is actually true," Phoenix said when it quieted down.

"Wh-what?" asked Flynch.

"I won't deny that Mr. Sycamore had the police chief change the will. But you keep saying that the late Mr. Barde intended to leave everything to his kids. What proof do you have of that?"

"What are you saying?! Who else would he list as recipients of the estate?!"

"In other words, you don't know? Didn't you see the original will?"

Flynch grew flustered. "Uh...well, that is..." He shook his head. "Your Honor! What the defense is asking is irrelevant! Clearly, he is attempting to steer us away from the matter at hand, by bringing up trifling details such as what was in the original will."

"I'm not so sure such details are trifling, Mr. Flynch," stated the judge. "Still, Mr. Wright, if you don't have a compelling reason to find out what was written in the original will, you will end this pursuit, here and now."

"Y-yes, Your Honor. I say that only Mr. Barde can answer what was on the original will. Mr. Flynch intends to paint my client as a heartless individual with no regard for the well-being of grieving children. If we could get a copy..."

"No copies exist, Mr. Wright," Flynch told him. "So sorry to have to stop your pathetic attempt to stall this trial, but Chief Jakes destroyed the original will and all its copies."

 _Damn it_ , thought Phoenix. _I was sure there was something there..._

Phoenix's reaction amused Flynch. "I see you were counting on the existence of this will. Such a pity." He began to cackle. "As you said, the only way to find out is to ask Mr. Barde himself! Very small chance of that happening."

"Small chance, huh?" Maya suddenly murmured.

"What did you say, young lady?" Flynch was caught off guard at first, but then relaxed. "Oh, is this another attempt at distraction? Allow me to humor you. The prosecution will allow testimony from Mr. Barde... when it becomes possible to bring the dead back to life! So you'd better get started on that; otherwise, we should end the trial right here."

 _Someone's going to regret his words later,_ thought Phoenix.

"Now, as I was saying, there is no will, and there is no way...that we can ever know what Mr. Barde originally intended. Because when you look at the facts--"

"Oh, my sweet Rhuby-kins. You were always one for cold, hard facts."

"Well, Mum, I couldn't very well call myself a barrister if I wasn't, now could I? After all, I--" Flynch stopped cold as the exchange registered. Eyes widening, he slowly turned his face toward the defense's bench, hardly believing what he beheld.

To Phoenix, it was no shock; on occasion, the woman at his side altered her appearance for counsel's sake. This time, she stood nearly at his height, her robes wrapped around a figure twice her usual size. _Wow...I can't believe she committed that face to memory already._

"Wh-wha..." Flynch's expression was frozen in horror as he tried to make sense of the woman's sudden appearance. "This can't...can't be..."

"I'm so proud of you, my Rhuby-wooby. Still at it after all these years."

Sweat trickled down the side of the man's brow. Something resembling a cross between a whimper and squeak escaped his mouth. "M... Mu..." He began trembling uncontrollably. "Uh...uuuuuwwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!" Flynch stumbled backward and spun around, running toward the courtroom's exit at an incredible speed.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Phoenix, Sycamore, Layton, and the woman possessing Maya's body were gathered in the defense lobby.

"Oh dear," said the woman, looking somber. "I'm afraid I've rather spooked my little Rhuby. Will he be all right?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Flynch," Phoenix replied. "They found him outside just a short while ago, huddled behind a bush, and standing in a puddle."

"I didn't realize it was raining," Sycamore said.

"It isn't," Phoenix told him, casting him a look.

"Ah." Sycamore gave a nod in understanding.

"Mr. Wright," Layton cut in, "Can you explain what, exactly, has transpired here?"

"Oh, uh...yeah, I guess this never really came up in Labyrinthia. Well, you know that Maya is a spirit medium, right?"

"Yes, I believe she mentioned something like that."

"Well, there are mediums who claim to talk to the dead, and then...there's this. Basically, Maya descends from a long line of mediums who can physically channel spirits, to the extent that she can strongly resemble the spirit in his or her last physical living state. It sounds totally unbelievable, but...it's hard to deny when you see it in front of you like this."

"Fascinating," Layton said, looking to be mulling over something. "And you say she is currently channeling the mother of Prosecutor Flynch?"

"Oh, is that what this is all about?" the woman asked. "I wondered why I was suddenly back in the courtroom, cheering on my Rhuby-pie."

"Mrs. Flynch?"

She chuckled at Phoenix. "Oh, call me Ida."

"Ida," Phoenix started, "Why do you keep calling him Rhuby? Is that his name?"

"Goodness, no. Call it a term of endearment. My son loved my rhubarb pies as a child. Even as he became a man, he couldn't outgrow his fondness for the dessert. I was always making pies for him...up until I passed."

"What a delightful story," Layton commented. "Prosecutor Flynch undoubtedly had a special bond with you."

"Oh, that he did. We had tea five times a week, and he built a wing in his house just so that we could be closer."

 _Mama's boy_ , thought Phoenix.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Flynch," Sycamore cut in.

"Ida," the woman corrected.

"Ida, yes. May I borrow Mr. Wright for a while? There's something important I need to discuss with him."

"Oh, of course, dear. If everything my Rhuby says is true, you need all the help you can get."

"Uh..." Sycamore brushed off the comment. "I appreciate it." To Phoenix, he said, "What will happen now, Mr. Wright? That prosecutor doesn't appear ready to stand in a courtroom."

"Well, I left a message for the man in charge of the case," said Phoenix. "If he's not busy, he'll appoint another prosecutor to take Flynch's place. Otherwise...we may be waiting awhile. Oh, and all of this needs to be decided before the hour is up."

"That's less than thirty minutes away."

Phoenix nodded. "Yeah. Not sure where the next prosecutor will go from here, but for now, I'll need to rethink the 'Evan Barde' thing."

"Mr. Wright," said Sycamore. "I understand you were stalling for time..."

Phoenix fought the urge to gulp. _Was it really that obvious?_

"...but I can assure you, as someone who saw the original will, Evan Barde intended to leave everything to his children. I had Chief Jakes name Clark Triton as the sole inheritor."

"Yeah...I'm almost afraid to ask, but why did you do that? You knew those kids needed to be cared for."

Sycamore brought his gaze to the floor. "Honestly, Mr. Wright...I don't know. It's true I needed a lot of money to carry out my plot. Maybe I thought that leaving it all to Clark Triton would ensure this. But I swear, I didn't take any of it for myself. I will say I didn't anticipate the outcome...the children withdrawing, the townspeople leaving them alone, despite expressing concern for them. In the end, it seems my decision wasn't entirely a disaster..."

"Not half the disaster it could have been," said the male voice.

The group turned as a man with dark blond hair and a short beard walked into the room. Dressed in a blue business suit and a pale red tie, he bore a most serious expression.

 _I don't know what it is about this guy,_ thought Phoenix. _But he's got a great sense of style._

"Clark!" Layton exclaimed. "It's good to see you again. How have you and Brenda been? I ran into Luke earlier this morning."

"Good to see you too, Hershel," Clark said. "We're...doing well. I feel blessed to be where I am today, with my family and friends, and working for a man generous enough to allow me to be here. How have you been, Hershel?"

"I've been better, but I've also been worse. Perhaps I should also count my blessings these days. You are all greatly missed."

"Thank you. I'll admit I find myself longing for this country at times, and the people I've come to know. But I wouldn't change anything about the path I've chosen." He turned to the bespectacled man beside Layton. "Professor Sycamore."

Sycamore hesitated, but nodded. "Doctor Triton."

"I came here for one reason, to trade words with you... or, perhaps, something considerably more violent. You would deserve it, after all." He paused, and his tone softened. "Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself until the moment I walked through those doors. Now I'm just...mystified. You don't conduct yourself in the manner of one who abducted Brenda and Doland, and blackmailed me. I would not even begin to surmise you were the man who made attempts on the lives of my son and my good friend here. You did nothing but terrorize the residents of my town, night after night, and yet... I can see it in your eyes – remorse, and resignation. I don't know if I can forgive what you've done, but I think I deserve to know why you did it."

"I..." Sycamore avoided the man's gaze. "It's...truthfully...everything...everything the prosecutor said about me is true. I wanted to be the one to discover the secret of the Azran. It had to be me. That's all I can say."

Clark took a moment to absorb the words, then he shook his head in disapproval. "It's a pity that you aren't half the liar your other self is." To Layton, he said, "Hershel, I don't know why you're here at his side, but since you are, I'm confident you have a good reason for it." He looked back to Sycamore. "Luke also told me you once risked your life to push him out of harm's way, and paid a price for it. And that when the world was threatened, you were all too eager to defend it. I don't think a man who simply seeks fame would have that kind of moral strength and character."

"Clark..." said Layton.

"It was good to see you, Hershel," Clark said. "You too...Mr. Wright, was it? And...madam, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, but it's a pleasure. Professor Sycamore...I pray you find what you seek in this trial. Good day."


	4. The Red Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynch's replacement appears. A tragic secret is brought to light.

Twenty minutes later, everyone had shuffled back into the courtroom. Phoenix and Maya, who had reverted back to herself within that time frame, were using the lull to speak with Sycamore.

"The hour is almost up," Sycamore said. "The judge looks restless. Mr. Wright, what should happen if a decision isn't made?"

"Likely we'll adjourn for the day, and tomorrow, someone else will be standing behind the prosecutor's bench," replied Phoenix. Then, seeing his client's troubled expression, he asked, "What is it, Mr. Sycamore?"

"There are...many who are following this trial, those who are expecting a certain outcome. I wonder if it is fair to them to postpone that, when I've put things off long enough."

_Wow. He really feels bad about everything._ "Uh, well...I can't speak on whether it's fair or not, but I'm told we don't have any control over what gets decided." _Especially if Edgeworth is involved. Geez, how in the hell does that guy have so many connections?_ "But you could look at it like this... it would only be one more day, you know? Trust me, I know trials are stressful. But I'm not going anywhere until you've been given a proper defense, so there's no use in worrying about things beyond our control."

"Yes...I suppose..."

The doors to the prosecutor's lobby suddenly opened, bringing everyone's attention toward the young man headed toward the judge's section. Dressed in a wine red business suit, he carried himself in a dignified manner.

"Looks like Mr. Edgeworth has made a decision," said Maya.

"That's Mr. Edgeworth?" asked Sycamore. "Such style...such refinement... I must have the name of his tailor!"

Phoenix had to hide his disbelief. _The guy who wears a ruffled bib for a tie? Seriously?_ "Yeah, that's Edgeworth. We'll talk later, Mr. Sycamore." He motioned to Maya, who followed him to the defense's bench.

There was surprised murmuring from the judge, then a vocal expression of agreement. He began to pound his gavel as Edgeworth walked to the prosecutor's side. "This court will now reconvene. Due to the events of last hour, Prosecutor Flynch will be... stepping down for the remainder of the trial. Since this is a most unusual case, Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth has agreed to stand in court in Flynch's place. Now, we will proceed. Is the prosecution ready?"

"Naturally, Your Honor," responded the man, then directed his gaze at the defense. "Mr. Wright, I hope you don't intend to pursue the matter of Mr. Evan Barde, as the act of spirit channeling has no place in a courtroom."

"Says the jerk who saw it two months ago _in a courtroom_ ," Maya muttered, seething.

"Not now, Maya," Phoenix whispered to her. Then, with a smirk, he replied, "I was just seeing how serious Mr. Flynch was about proving my client heartless. But since he's lost his nerve, I have no problem backing off."

Edgeworth returned the smug expression. "That's just like you, isn't it, Mr. Wright? It's just as well. Mr. Flynch was having trouble organizing his case, and his notes were scattered after the stunt you two pulled. But thanks to that, I can assemble a series of _proper_ arguments and fortify the stance of the prosecution."

"When he says it like that, I almost feel sorry for Flynch," said Maya.

"Now, continuing with the timeline, Mr. Sycamore was terrorizing the citizens of Misthallery using his excavation machines, which he blackmailed the chief engineer into building. Around this time, he had also kidnapped the butler of the Triton household, as well as the wife of Clark Triton, whom he had illegally named sole inheritor of the Barde estate six months prior, leaving Barde's children penniless and vulnerable."

The familiar feeling of dread returned to Phoenix's gut. _There's proper argument number one..._

"While it's true Mr. Sycamore is able to escape some of the charges today, he cannot erase the damage done to the psyche and well-being of children who have been orphaned, including one afflicted with a debilitating condition."

_So he's going there, is he?_ thought Phoenix.

"The truth is, the original heir to the will is irrelevant. The fact that Mr. Sycamore tampered with it caused harm to Mr. Barde's children and left them isolated for many months. Mr. Barde's daughter, Arianna, had an illness for which modern medicine had no cure. As a result, she nearly died."

There were gasps from multiple directions in the audience, which were joined by the judge's own expression of outrage.

"The only reason Ms. Barde lives today is due to intervention by various beings. The Garden of Healing, or the Golden Garden, was discovered beneath the town of Misthallery. The air there, which had not been touched for ages, is lauded for its healing properties. Once the people gained access to this place, Arianna Barde was able to convalesce there."

"Beneath Misthallery, you say?" asked the judge. "So Mr. Sycamore, rather, the masked stranger..."

Edgeworth nodded. "It would appear he was doing his best to pursue the location. But instead of working with the townspeople, he coerced, kidnapped, and terrorized them. It was more important that he discover the ancient site before anyone else. Does that make him heartless?" He paused deliberately for effect, showing a smirk. "I'll let the court decide. I call Ms. Arianna Barde to the stand."

Moments later, a young, teenaged girl with medium length auburn hair took her place at the witness' stand.

"Will the witness state her name and occupation for the court?" Edgeworth asked.

"I'm Arianna Barde," she replied. "I am a student."

"Ms. Barde, over four years ago, your father died, leaving you and your brother behind. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"Please testify to the court about the events leading up to the following year."

Arianna nodded. "Papa fell over a cliffside by our garden. It was an accident, but the police were determined to rule it a suicide. After that, I couldn't bear to hear the townspeople badmouth Papa, and so I shut myself away. I assumed that my brother Tony and I were on our own, especially after we realized there was no money. We dismissed all the house staff. It was terribly lonely, and I spent the days and many sleepless nights in a dust-covered room, too weak to even tidy up. The air outside was harsh on my lungs, but I would always brave it for Loosha's sake. She was the light in our dark time."

The judge nodded as the girl finished. "Just one question. Who is this Loosha?"

"Loosha is a creature from the waters surrounding our home. Tony and I befriended her when she was tiny. In some ways, she was our only friend for so long."

"Incidentally, Your Honor," Edgeworth chimed in, "Loosha is the creature that was mentioned battling with the excavation machines during the night attacks."

"I see." The elder man turned toward the defense. "Well then, Mr. Wright?"

Phoenix stepped out from behind the bench. "Ms. Barde, what did you mean when you said the townspeople were badmouthing your father?"

"I knew they were angry with him for shutting down his factory and letting the workers go," said Arianna. "The truth is, I was sick before that happened, and my father thought that closing the factory would improve the air quality for me. He also raised the rent for many citizens. The townspeople resented him for that, so when he died...that resentment was redirected to his children...or so I thought."

"But that wasn't true."

"No, it wasn't. Regardless of how they felt about Papa, they wanted to know if we were all right. I didn't even want to consider the possibility, though. So Tony and I took solace in our friendship with Loosha."

"It was mentioned that Loosha fought with the excavation machines, and that is what led to the destruction of the buildings..."

Arianna nodded. "Being such a large creature, I couldn't stop her from going anywhere. I could only hope to calm her with a melody."

"And how did you do that?" asked Phoenix.

"I would play a song on the ocarina my father bought. Even though I was at the manor, the pipes carried the sound all throughout Misthallery, and Loosha would withdraw. But...when she was determined, nothing could stop her."

"What do you mean?"

Arianna's expression turned somber. "She wanted nothing more than for me to live, even at the cost of her own life."

"Her own life--"

"Objection!" Edgeworth interrupted. "Mr. Wright, what does this line of questioning have to do with the incidents at Misthallery, or even with the witness' experiences relating to that?"

"If I may, Mr. Edgeworth," Arianna replied. "It was Loosha who found the Golden Garden. Since she was originally born there, she was the only one who knew its location. So, she wasn't just trying to protect Misthallery from the machines, she was also trying to protect her home."

"Hmm..." The man mulled over the response, but he was still not entirely satisfied. "Ms. Barde, you were testifying about your life following the death of your father and his altered will. I understand Loosha ultimately found the site that enabled your recovery. However, this trial is to ascertain the weight of Mr. Sycamore's crimes. If there is any connection between Mr. Sycamore and the death of Loosha, then I would like for you to testify about that. Otherwise, I must stop this line of questioning."

"Sycamore? That's the name of the masked man, correct? Well, he didn't have anything to do with Loosha's death...not directly. I mean, I think if Loosha hadn't spent all her energy fighting his machines, she would have lived, but besides that..."

"So Loosha exhausted herself and died as a result of her injuries?"

"It's more like, since she was the only one who knew the location of the Golden Garden, she used the last bit of her strength to break down the dam concealing it. If she hadn't done that...I suppose it would have meant my death instead of hers."

"In other words, there is nothing directly connecting Mr. Sycamore to Loosha's death."

Arianna shook her head. "No."

"Thank you for your time, Ms. Barde" said Edgeworth. "You have been through much for someone so young, and I appreciate you sharing your account."

_Don't tell me he's going there now,_ Phoenix thought, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"You're welcome, Mr. Edgeworth," the girl answered. "Is that all you needed?"

"For now, yes. We may call upon you again should the need present itself."

"All right. Until then, good day." Arianna moved away from the witness stand, exiting through the doors of the prosecutor's lobby. Phoenix took his cue to return to the defense's bench.

The gavel came down once. "Mr. Edgeworth," started the judge, "three witnesses have come to the stand thus far, and all three have referred to the culprit as someone in disguise. Not Desmond Sycamore. In other words, none have been able to connect the defendant himself to any of the crimes of which he stands accused."

"Yes, Your Honor, I admit that is a problem." Edgeworth appeared to be contemplating something. "I have put in a request to the police to expedite the delivery of the costume Mr. Sycamore wore during that time, but even I have my limitations. Until then, we will have to rely on witness testimony, which will act as the foundation for the prosecution's case."

"Speaking of the Yard, the inspector in charge of the investigations back then, Clamp Grosky...why hasn't he made an appearance?"

Phoenix's mouth fell open slightly. _Huh. I'd almost forgotten about him._

"Yes, originally he was supposed to arrive first thing this morning. However, a discovery was made in a rural area last night, and he has been on the scene since then. Since it takes over an hour and a half to get there by car, I don't expect we'll see him today."

"Oh? What discovery was that, if I may ask?"

"A suspicious wreckage hidden among the trees, from an airship of some kind. At first, there did not appear to be any survivors, but now Inspector Grosky is investigating the possibility of a murder."

There was a barely audible gasp, some distance to Phoenix's left.

"A murder?" the judge asked. "Might I ask what brought him to that conclusion?"

"There is a lone grave at the hillside there, recently made. Right now, they are exhuming the body, and will perform an autopsy before the day is--"

_"No...!"_

Stunned, Phoenix, as well as everyone else, turned toward the defendant's chair, where a red-faced Sycamore now stood, eyes wide, expression frozen in fear.

"Mr. Sycamore, what is the meaning of this?" demanded the judge.

"You can't do this!" the man pleaded in desperation. "You mustn't! Raymond devoted his life to serving me and my family...I won't let you disturb his resting place! I won't! Please! Leave him be, I beg of you!"

A hundred verbal exchanges were present in the audience now, and the roar was drowning out Sycamore's pleas.

"Oh my God, Nick," Maya exclaimed. "Mr. Sycamore knows the person in the grave? Then..."

Phoenix nodded. "Yeah...if what he's saying is true, then that's his airship that crashed. This trial just got a lot more interesting."

"Order! Order!" The judge cracked the gavel repeatedly against its sound block. "Mr. Sycamore, you will explain yourself! Are you saying this Raymond person was involved in this wreckage? Are you the owner of that airship?"

"I am," Sycamore declared, looking wounded by the query. "That airship was my home, and Raymond, my butler and most loyal companion. I don't know why I survived the crash, but I couldn't let Raymond go without a burial. So please...don't disturb the place where he rests. Please..."

"Mr. Sycamore," Edgeworth cut in. "I am sorry, but this is out of our hands. Rest assured that once the autopsy is done, Mr. Raymond will receive a proper burial. I will even arrange for you to be there, if you wish. You have my word on that."

"Ugh..." Sycamore sank into his chair, too floored by the last few moments to acknowledge the offer of generosity.

"Furthermore, this incident should have been reported to the authorities within a much shorter time frame. Concealing a death such as this in the manner you did...you do understand new charges could be brought against you? Why did you not so much as even breathe a word?"

"I..." Sycamore shook his head slowly. "I...couldn't. It was...it was better to have left it alone. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to conceal anything. It was dark, a storm was coming in, and he had just died...right there. I was all alone, and my head was spinning...I didn't know what else to do. But...murder? The engine malfunctioned, nothing more."

"The investigation will clarify the events for the courtroom. It's not that I don't trust your word, Mr. Sycamore, but the police have a job to do. It's nothing personal. In the meantime, if you really did survive a crash of that magnitude, then I suggest visiting the hospital to ensure your health is not in jeopardy. We will have guards escort you there, of course."

"I've already seen a doctor. I'm fine."

"I see. Well then, you will need to wait for the results of the investigation, just as we will." Edgeworth turned to the judge. "Your Honor, the prosecution has nothing further to present today."

The judge nodded. "Understood. Then, we will adjourn for the day--"

"Wait!"

_What now?_ Phoenix wondered. _Wait, that voice sounds familiar..._

"Who said that?" demanded the judge. "Young man? Was that you?"

A boy, around thirteen years of age, walked past the witness stand. He wore a white dress shirt beneath a blue sweater, tan shorts, and a blue hat. "Yes, Your Honor. You'll have to forgive me, but I was there too! In Misthallery, that is."

"And who are you?"

"I'm Luke Triton, Your Honor. I'm the son of Clark and Brenda, who testified earlier. I'm a friend of Arianna Barde. I also personally know Professor Sycamore and was acquainted with the late Mr. Raymond. So please, allow me to testify!"

"Luke..." Phoenix murmured.

Similarly, Sycamore was astonished. "Luke..."

"Hmm..." The judge took a moment. "Mr. Edgeworth, what do you think?"

"Your Honor, since this young man knows the defendant, then we may gain new insight into this case," replied Edgeworth. "The truth is, I would have eventually called to the stand someone close to Mr. Sycamore..."

Phoenix nearly jumped when he realized Edgeworth was looking in Layton's direction. _Crap...I forgot all about that. And if I know Edgeworth, he's already done his homework on Professor Layton's true relation to Mr. Sycamore...if that comes up, I won't be able to stop the professor from taking the stand. And I can see this is rough on him as it is..._

"...but I'll welcome such testimony, even sooner than planned."

"Very well, I'll allow it," said the judge. "Mr. Triton, please take the stand."

After Luke took his place behind the witness stand, Edgeworth said, "Please state your name and profession."

"Luke Triton," the boy replied. "I'm a student, but I'll always be Professor Layton's number one apprentice!" Briefly beaming, he caught himself, and cleared his throat. "Errh...presently a student, I mean."

"Mr. Triton," Edgeworth started, "Just how well do you know the defendant?"

There was a pause, and the Luke said, "I, the professor, and others traveled with him over the better part of a year. I can say, without a doubt, that he is the masked scientist known as Jean Descole."

The audience broke into shocked murmurs again.

"And how do you know this?"

"He revealed himself at the end of our trip together. There was something he was hoping to gain, but he couldn't do it dressed as Descole. He had to earn our trust as Sycamore first."

"Hmm." Edgeworth stood there, letting the words sink in. "Let it be known that the witness has confirmed the defendant is in fact the masked man who masterminded the schemes involving the Azran civilization. However, today, I would like for the witness to testify about the events at Misthallery and the Golden Garden."

Luke gave a sheepish smile. "Uh, w-well...there isn't much left for me to say about that, really. I think the previous witnesses covered just about everything."

"That's true...however, having been close to the defendant for a time, perhaps you can offer something that the court has not yet heard. In fact..." Edgeworth looked over at Phoenix with a smirk. "...I'll even let the defense draw it out of you. There's bound to be something that was missed."

_Really, Edgeworth? So now you want me to do your work for you?_ "Fine." Phoenix shook his head and turned back to Luke. "Mr. Triton, your mother told the court earlier how Mr. Sycamore, or rather Descole, had disguised himself as Doland Noble. Can you tell us of the impostor's behavior during the Misthallery incidents?"

Luke seemed a bit stunned. "Oh, well...he behaved normally for much of the time. He even helped me during the specter attacks."

"And how did he do that?"

"I discovered a way to predict when the next attack was to take place, and where. I told Doland, or the man I thought was Doland, and he would warn the townspeople so that they could evacuate."

"Interesting...so he did what he could to keep the residents out of harm's way..."

"Heh heh heh..." Edgeworth shook his head at Phoenix. "Mr. Wright, I've been reviewing the court record. So this is your idea of your client being human and not a simple monster? A man who causes citizens to flee their homes before he takes it upon himself to destroy the place where they live? How pointlessly noble."

"I disagree, Mr. Edgeworth," Phoenix responded. "He could have just done nothing and let harm come to the people."

"And why would he do that? To risk drawing suspicion after giving Mr. Triton the impression he would save the people's lives?"

"No, no, no...I'm just saying the outcome could have been worse."

"Yes, at the cost of outing himself."

Phoenix shook his head. "He didn't have to worry about that."

"And what proof do you have of that, Mr. Wright?" Edgeworth demanded.

"Earlier, during Brenda Triton's testimony, it was revealed that Mr. Sycamore had been working with the police chief to change Evan Barde's will. Chief Levin Jakes was a powerful force in Misthallery, and it's known that he fabricated the outcome of many cases. If Mr. Sycamore had him in his back pocket, he need only call on him should anything go wrong during the night excavations."

That one caught Edgeworth by surprise. "Urk...!"

"Do you get it now? It wasn't Mr. Sycamore's intention to destroy houses or hurt people. He just wanted to search for the Golden Garden, but couldn't do that in the open with his methods. Yes, he would have still caused sinkholes in the streets, but that was all. He had no idea he would be battling a creature, night after night."

"He didn't?" Edgeworth asked, recovering quickly. "I beg to differ. I'll concede that first night, it was likely a surprise. But after the third or fourth time, he should have expected a visit from that creature. His initial lack of awareness does not excuse his recklessness later on."

Phoenix gasped. _Damn! I can't argue with that._

"His desire to access this 'Golden Garden' was so great, he was still willing to sacrifice parts of the town to do it."

"And yet, he still warned all the townspeople to leave," Phoenix said, figuratively picking himself back up. "Thank you for proving my point, Mr. Edgeworth. My client is a complex and complicated individual, and not simply a monster."

"Either way, he is guilty," Edgeworth retorted. "I suggest you do your best to remember that, Mr. Wright, and present a stronger defense than the idea that at least the defendant isn't one-dimensional."

"That's not what I was saying," Phoenix muttered.

"Um," Maya cut in, "honestly, it kind of sounds like you were saying that."

"Maya, not you too."

"Listen to your co-counsel, Mr. Wright," Edgeworth said, clearly amused. "Anyway, all we've learned is that despite Mr. Sycamore's talents, his methods are confusing and ineffective. It does not appear we'll learn anything else from further testimony regarding the events at Misthallery, so I believe we can wrap this up. Do you not agree, Your Honor?"

The judge nodded. "You are free to go, young man," he said to Luke. "As a matter of fact, I will conclude proceedings for the day. We will reconvene in the morning."

* * *

Back in the defendant's lobby, Phoenix was processing the events of the day. It was only when Sycamore broke into his thoughts that he noticed who was around him.

"Uh, did you say something, Mr. Sycamore?"

"I said, do you have an idea of what will happen tomorrow?"

"Oh! Well, since everyone is finished testifying about Misthallery, they'll probably move on to the events on that island...Ambrosia, was it?"

Sycamore nodded. "Yes."

"I'd like to talk to you more about that at the detention center, if you don't mind."

"Of course..." The man looked pensive. "...Mr. Wright?"

"Yes, Mr. Sycamore?" Phoenix replied. "Err, by the way, is it okay if I keep calling you that? I notice a lot of people who met you refer to you as 'Professor Sycamore.'"

"'Mr. Sycamore' will do. I'm not much of a professor these days. But regarding the crash, what...will happen with Raymond and the investigation into the Bostonius?"

_Oh yeah...depending on what they find, that could reflect badly on him too. And I'll have to look into those potential charges Edgeworth mentioned._ "I know you're concerned about that, especially since it involves someone you were close to...but you can take Edgeworth at his word. Once the investigation is complete, he will make sure you're there when Raymond is given his second burial."

Sycamore turned his gaze elsewhere, a somber expression on his face. "They should have just left him there. That is where he should rest."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sycamore. I really am. But...what about you? Are you sure you're physically okay after that crash?"

"Yes, I'm fine. As I said in court, I was examined by a local doctor a few days after it happened. He was concerned about the bruising, but he was confident it did not require a hospital visit. I haven't experienced any strange symptoms since."

Phoenix nodded. "Okay...well, other than that, is there anything else I should know about the crash?"

"Nothing that would provide new insight into this case. They'll see the airship was my home, and full of memories." Sycamore's demeanor quickly changed. "Mr. Wright, what did Mr. Edgeworth mean about you presenting a stronger defense?"

"Oh, pretty sure that was a warning. In some ways, he's right. I need to dig deeper than the fact that humans experience a wide range of emotions. Just because you've entered a guilty plea doesn't mean I can't defend you properly. But you know...I can only do that if you're honest with me."

"About...?"

"Your motive. Professor Layton once mentioned you wanted revenge, so I know you didn't do all of this for fame. You were driven by something else, by someone else. I get the feeling it has something to do with whatever Targent is..."

Sycamore was stunned at first, but frowned. "That is not something I wish to discuss at this time."

"Oh...I see...well, then--"

He was interrupted by the doors opening, and four guards walking in.

"Mr. Sycamore," one guard announced. "We are here to escort you back."

"Goodbye for now, Mr. Wright, Ms. Fey." Sycamore turned and saw Layton, who was standing next to the uniformed men.

"Yeah," said Phoenix. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Sycamore."

"Later, Mr. Sycamore," said Maya.


	5. Detragan's Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the worst of Sycamore's crimes is revealed, Phoenix begins to see a certain truth.

Phoenix sat at the oak desk, thumbing through the case file. It had been an hour since he had returned to the hotel with his companion, and he was starting to feel the effects of the meal he had hastily consumed since then. No matter how much he concentrated on a specific section of text, everything would inevitably blur together and he would have to blink it back into focus.

Maya sat on the bed, surrounded by several manila folders. In one hand, she held a set of papers, and in the other, a disposable cup with a straw. "So, was there anything we missed? With the whole Misthallery thing, I mean."

"Not much, I think. I do--" Phoenix made a face as the young woman noisily slurped down the last of her drink. "Ahem. I do wonder how the houses got rebuilt so quickly. If there's any lingering damage to the streets of the town, I imagine Mr. Sycamore would be made to pay for it, in some way. Even if not, there's probably a hefty fine in there somewhere."

"Speaking of payment, do you really think he cheated those institutions?"

"I don't know, Maya. On the one hand, they really didn't tell him he could do all that crazy stuff. On the other, all that crazy stuff is what led to the discovery of those Azran sites. It doesn't look like anyone wants to press charges over it, though, so it might not matter." He leaned back in the chair, his gaze drifting toward the clock on the wall. "Oh, it's almost five thirty. We'd better get going."

* * *

"Good evening, Mr. Wright, Ms. Fey," Sycamore said to his visitors through the glass.

Both Phoenix and Maya returned the greeting as they sat down. Phoenix then asked, "By the way, Mr. Sycamore, as Professor Layton been by?"

Sycamore nodded. "He has, but he had to go home for Flora's sake."

"I see..." Seeing the man's somber expression, Phoenix added, "Whatever Flora finds disappointing about the situation, I'm sure she'll come around."

"Thank you, Mr. Wright, but...I'm not as confident. But let us not dwell on that tonight. You wished to discuss the events at Ambrosia?"

"Uh, right. I wanted to know more about what happened during that time. The professor said something about a theater turning into a ship? I wasn't sure I heard him right, but..."

"You did."

"Oh, uh...” Phoenix started to feel hot beneath his suit. _Why can't I ever get a normal case for a change?_ “Well, he also mentioned people being transported to an island. Can you expand on that, and talk about the people you interacted with most during that time?"

"That was..." Sycamore brought a hand to his chin in thought. "That was when I created a contest, a game if you will. The participants were required to attend an opera in a theater building called the Crown Petone. And yes, it was disguised as a ship."

"Going by the case file, a lot of people showed up," Maya said. "What exactly was the prize?"

"On the surface, eternal life. But in truth, it was not that simple." To his visitor's perplexed faces, he added, "Perhaps...it would be better if I started with the preceding months. Shortly after I left Misthallery, I discovered an island where the second Azran site was located. Upon its shores, I found a crest with strange markings, which I analyzed. Imagine my surprise when the markings turned out to be music notes!"

"Really?" asked Maya. "So that's why, with the opera and all..."

Sycamore nodded. "I sought out the opera composer, Oswald Whistler, in the hopes that he could help me decipher the music. It took a bit of coaxing, but he and his ailing daughter Melina joined me on the island. His daughter sang, and it was my desire that she assist us in resurrecting the city of Ambrosia. It would, after all, respond only to the songs in the crest. Sadly... Melina's condition worsened, and it became clear she did not have long to live. Because of this, it fell on me to construct a unique device. Commissioned by Whistler, it was a machine that not only played an orchestra's set of instruments all at once, but could also excavate, and store the memories of the dying woman."

_Sounds ridiculous_ , thought Phoenix. "Is it even possible for one machine to do all that?"

"With my funding, I made sure that it did. Called the Detragan, it was finished just in time to collect Melina's memories. Fortunately, I had convinced him that there was a way to bring his daughter back. It would involve luring a compatible person to the island, and then subjecting them to the machine. The Detragan would transfer the memories into the individual, allowing Melina to live again."

"But she wouldn't really be alive.”

"No, she wouldn't," Sycamore replied. "It would only be a temporary state, a fragile, residual effect. Truthfully, one would need to be subjected to the process for as long as that person resisted the lack of control over his or her own mind. But even the Detragan couldn't store the memories forever."

_Geez, talk about being a prisoner in your own body...at least for a while._ "Then...why did you feed him that story about bringing his daughter back?"

"His daughter...I couldn't bear to--" Sycamore's mask briefly slipped, his brow furrowing. "That is, I just...I needed his cooperation. I needed someone to learn the melody and sing it. It could have been anyone, but perhaps Melina was the best choice. I even called upon Melina's friend, who sang in the opera. Meanwhile, writing that opera was the best distraction for Oswald, but it wasn't enough. We lured several young girls to the island until finding an adequate match in a seven-year-old. Being so young, she was...impressionable. The memories easily took her over, and for a while, Oswald was happy to have 'his daughter' back."

_Wow, they weren't kidding about those kidnapping charges,_ Phoenix thought, dismayed.

"While that was happening, I sent out word of the event. 'Attend the opera and you will have the chance to achieve eternal life,' or something vaguely phrased. It was highly tempting to the terminally ill, the elderly, and the maimed, and they were willing to spend any amount of money. They were unaware of the game itself until they were in those theater seats."

Phoenix grew more uncomfortable. _And exploitation...hello, civil suits._

"In case you were wondering, yes, the money funded the contest itself. And...I made it clear to the attendees that participation was mandatory. Layton and Luke attended for the sake of the young woman starring in the opera, so they were unaware of the performance's purpose initially. When the opera ended, that's when the contest began, and the ship broke away from the building. After each round, I ordered my henchmen to escort the losers to the escape pods, to be brought back to land. At one point, the winners were transported to the island of Ambrosia and lured to the castle, where Oswald and Melina once lived, and I carried out my operations. At the end, the winner was brought before the Detragan."

_If not for the kidnapping and deception, this contest would actually sound like fun,_ thought Phoenix. "So where were Professor Layton and Luke during this time?"

"Layton had gone off to do his own investigation, I presumed, while Luke was among the group of finalists. Still, they all ended up where I needed them to be. A schoolgirl named Amelia was named the true winner. She wished only to save her ailing grandfather, but she had no idea her fate was to be abducted and brainwashed, that the only 'eternal life' to be found was in the memories of Melina. Oswald wanted his daughter back, while I needed a person who could sing the melody to the Ambrosia song. Eventually, we learned that Melina's memories were already active in her friend, the woman from the opera. With her help, and...Layton's...the ruins of the city rose from the seas. Even...even Luke had a hand in ensuring this happened."

"That's...incredible," Maya said.

"Yeah." Phoenix suddenly recalled Clark's words from earlier. "Um, by the way, what is this about making an attempt on Luke's life? Did you really try to kill him?"

The mask slipped again, this time for good, as Sycamore appeared genuinely remorseful. "It...wasn't planned, but...yes. I was furious...after combining the two songs, the city would not rise, and so, I decided to force it. In my anger, I had pushed aside the young woman, who was only trying to stop me from wreaking havoc on everything around me. She...was put in a dangerous position, and Luke was trying to save her. He was also trying to stop me, so...I reacted with violence. Fortunately, Layton came at the last minute to push him out of harm's way, and despite the danger, they both survived without a scratch."

"I see."

"When I look back at all the times I justified my behavior by saying I was only reacting..." the man continued, a mix of pain and loathing in his eyes. "I'm appalled, horrified at what I was capable of, and ashamed. That little boy could have lost his life. Clark could have lost his son. I would have been responsible for causing another father to lose his child..."

Phoenix looked at him in confusion. _Another?_ "What do you mean? You're not saying you had something to do with Melina dying, are you?"

"N-no..." Sycamore's mood quickly shifted. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wright. I just...meant...we all make mistakes, even when we don't intend to."

_That doesn't clear it up..._ Just then, Phoenix noticed something. _There's a lingering sadness in his eyes. I wonder...could it have anything to do with what he and the professor were talking about earlier? The evil forces that tore their family apart..._ "Well, speaking of Oswald Whistler, there's a rumor going around that he'll be a witness tomorrow."

"That's not surprising. I caught a glimpse of him among the crowd today. I'm sure he'll be glad to do his part in ensuring my incarceration."

"You don't know that, Mr. Sycamore," Maya murmured. "And no one can say for sure how this trial will turn out..."

"Ms. Fey, please don't waste your kindness on me, not for this. I've done terrible things."

"Sure, but...people don't just wake up one day and decide to be cruel to others. There's something else going on. I can see that you're a good person. Maybe nobody held a gun to your head, but something must have driven you to carry out these plots. Something big."

Sycamore gave a soft groan, breaking eye contact with his visitors.

To the man's growing discomfort, Phoenix said, "Mr. Sycamore, I know we can't make you talk about that, but as this case goes on, I think it's crucial. Please, at least think about it. I don't know much about your life outside of what you and Professor Layton discussed in front of us today, but as I said back in the lobby, I'm guessing your motives are related to whatever Targent is. You're not the type to seek fame and riches, though you had a pressing need to uncover the Azran's secrets before anyone else could. I'm not exactly sure what role Targent played in all of this, but I'm guessing they're the evil force that destroyed your family when you were a child. And...I can see that's not all that happened."

The words left Sycamore stunned...and speechless.

_I knew it._ "Mr. Sycamore...can you tell me what happened back then? You don't have to get too deep into it if it's painful...even technical terms will do--"

"They're murderers," Sycamore spat out before Phoenix finished his sentence.

Maya gasped.

"Did they murder someone close to you?" Phoenix asked.

Sycamore took a moment, looking as though he were steeling himself. "My wife and young daughter."

"No...!" Maya cried out, horrified. "Mr. Sycamore, I'm so sorry...!"

Now Phoenix was the speechless one. _No way..._

"Perhaps it's not fair for me to apply the charge," the man explained. "After all, they weren't supposed to die. It was me Targent wanted. I had a special interest in the Azran, and they wanted to use me for their purposes. They intended to punish me for refusing, but instead..." A turn of the head ended the thought.

"I don't...know what to say, Mr. Sycamore," Phoenix told him. "I've had loved ones in danger before, but somehow, I was mostly lucky. I've only lost one person truly important to me, but I was able to push forward and see justice done. I can't imagine being in a position where I wasn't able to do that..."

Sycamore's expression hardened. "I don't want to talk about this. Please..."

"Nick," Maya said.

Phoenix nodded. "Okay. I apologize for making you relive those memories, Mr. Sycamore, but I think I understand better now, so thank you. And thank you for telling me about Ambrosia. I'll be better prepared for what Edgeworth throws at me tomorrow."

* * *

The familiar sound of the gavel captured the attention of everyone in attendance, and the judge's voice sounded throughout the room. "The court is now in session for the trial of Desmond Sycamore."

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Phoenix said.

"The prosecution has been ready for a while, Your Honor," Edgeworth said.

"Then let us begin," said the judge. "Yesterday, the prosecution uncovered the extent of the crimes in Misthallery, as committed by a masked man known as 'Descole,' but unfortunately could not connect this man to the defendant. However, we also heard from a witness that Desmond Sycamore revealed himself to be Descole, and we also know that a costume worn by the defendant is in possession of the police. It will still be a day before analysis on the costume is complete."

"Speaking of that, Your Honor," Edgeworth interrupted, "I have received a preliminary analysis of the costume." He produced a small stack of papers, clipped at the top left corner.

"You do, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I had a hunch after Mr. Sycamore mentioned being present at the airship crash site, so I requested some additional tests. It appears that not only was Mr. Sycamore at the site, but he was also wearing the costume at the time. This is evidenced by damage to the fabric -- tears, burns, and soot. But more importantly, there was dirt on the suit and cape.” He flipped over the front sheet of the report. “Further analysis revealed that it matched the dirt from the shallow grave there."

There were murmurs among the audience.

_Geez,_ Phoenix thought. _Given how delayed the original analysis was, I wonder where he found the time and people to conduct the new tests._

"A match, you say!" exclaimed the judge. "So...what does that mean?"

"Mr. Sycamore, or in this case, Descole buried the man known as Raymond. That much is true. Additionally, the grave was marked with a broken piece of polished wood...and had the defendant's fingerprints all over it. They were positioned in a way one would hold a stake just before inserting it into the ground. As far as concealing a death goes, the evidence is overwhelming. However, as Mr. Sycamore has been cooperating with the police, they will not pursue new charges. Incidentally, I also received a copy of the autopsy this morning.” Edgeworth lowered the first report, picking up a second stack.

There was a soft gasp from Sycamore's direction.

"According to the report," Edgeworth went on, "Raymond had multiple bone fractures, including those on his skull, arm, hip, spine, and seven of his ribs. Also, his leg was shattered in three places. Since the body was partly decomposed, it was difficult to determine the extent of physical trauma to the flesh. However, no other wounds were found, no foreign objects were detected, and given the state of the airship, no foul play is suspected. Raymond died as a result of the crash, nothing more."

_Well, that's good,_ thought Phoenix. _Well, not GOOD, but...at least this isn't one more thing they can pin on Mr. Sycamore._

“We also managed to speak to the doctor that examined the defendant, and obtained a copy of the exam itself.” There was a familiar smirk on Edgeworth's face as he lowered the autopsy report. “Evidently, it was a miracle he survived the crash, let alone in the condition that he did. Mr. Sycamore suffered extensive bruising to his torso, but somehow avoided any internal injuries or head trauma.”

"He tracked down Mr. Sycamore's doctor too?" Maya remarked, sounding impressed. "That's some fine stalking-- err, detective work."

The judge appeared to be in awe of the report itself. “Still...he was able to bury a body in that condition, and then find his way back to the city? That _is_ a miracle.”

“I couldn't agree more, Your Honor. It's almost enough to make a man wonder if some unknown force was...looking out for the defendant.”

Something about the man's expression left Phoenix unsettled. _Okaaayyy... Mr. Spiritual, Edgeworth is not. Why do I get the feeling he knows something we don't?_

Edgeworth then cleared his throat. "Additionally, we are in possession of the airship's black box and are investigating the claim that the engine was not functioning properly. The company that builds these engines has a good reputation, but there have been few reports of the latest model malfunctioning. There was even one report of an airplane catching fire, prompting the flight crew and passengers to flee before the plane could take off. Fortunately, no one was hurt."

"Hmph...well, aside from the untimely death of Mr. Raymond, that is good to hear," said the judge. "Anything else?"

"Not at this time, Your Honor," Edgeworth replied.

"Then let us return to the trial itself. Mr. Edgeworth, did you have further evidence or testimony regarding Misthallery?"

"No, Your Honor, I believe we have sufficiently established that Mr. Sycamore caused damage to the town and injury to its people. Today, the prosecution will focus on the second site from Mr. Sycamore's plot -- an island where the ruins of the ancient city of Ambrosia now lie. I will detail this most unusual tale, rife with mystery and thrills from beginning to end."

That seemed to get the judge's attention. "Oh ho! Why, this sounds like the latest motion picture."

"Not quite, but there were various forms of entertainment for a captive audience. The defendant hosted an opera in a seaside theater, luring into the seats a gullible crowd. He went on to kidnap all of them, forcing them to participate in a game where the prize was eternal life. At the end, the winner was not to receive eternal life, but something akin to brainwashing -- this individual would be taken over by the memories of another, and be forced to live life as an entirely different person."

"Mr. Edgeworth!" the judge exclaimed. "I'm not entirely sure I can believe what you are saying."

Despite the fact Phoenix had heard the story before, he could only stand there, feeling uncomfortable. _They say the truth is stranger than fiction..._

"Believe it, Your Honor," Edgeworth told him. "I have multiple witnesses willing to testify about the facts as I have presented them. In fact, my first witness is a young woman who made it to the final round of the game, and won its 'prize.' I will bring her out momentarily."

* * *

A blonde girl in her late teens made her way through the courtroom. Dressed in a stylish plaid knee-length skirt and matching jacket, she took her place behind the witness stand.

"Witness, your name and profession, please."

"My name is Amelia Ruth. I'm a first year student at Gressenheller University."

"Ms. Ruth," said Edgeworth, "you were invited to come attend the opera at the Crown Petone, correct?"

Amelia nodded. "That is correct."

"Please testify to the court about the events that transpired there."

"I had just turned sixteen, so this was a rare opportunity for me. The one who invited me was Mr. Oswald Whistler, the man who composed the opera. Oh, it was beautiful...but when it was over, the game began. Some felt intimidated and even threatened by the rules, but not me. I was determined to win that prize! I managed to make it to the end...only to see it had all been a lie."

"Hmph..." The judge took a moment to absorb the testimony. "A night of opera, followed by an exciting game...except for the deceit, it sounds like my idea of a good time! Err...Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

"Ms. Ruth, you said you were invited, but something compelled you to attend, didn't it?" asked Phoenix.

"Yes," answered Amelia. "My grandfather."

"What about him?"

"He didn't have long to live. Most knew about the chance to gain 'eternal life' when they attended the opera. And even the story depicted a queen's loyal subjects creating the elixir of eternal life...I desperately wished for it to be real. I wanted to give the prize to Granddad so that he could live just a while longer."

"Can you tell me more about the game itself?"

"Well, we didn't find out about it until the performance ended, so it was actually a surprise...but it involved a series of puzzles..."

_Of course,_ thought Phoenix.

"Those who guessed the right answer were allowed to advance,” Amelia continued, “while those who didn't...they were collected by henchmen. We found out later that those people were safely transported back to land."

"It is said that the game ended on the island. Can you tell me how you ended up there?"

"Well, the solution to the second puzzle involved climbing into lifeboats and paddling away. Eventually, someone else took control of the boats remotely, bringing us to that island."

"So the game resumed then?"

"No, not right away. It seems Descole -- the man behind everything -- wanted to reward the winners up until then with a feast and a moment's rest. And then...he set the wolves on us."

"W-wolves?!" Phoenix cried out, unintentionally causing the word to echo throughout the courtroom.

"Descole was...controlling them somehow," Amelia explained. "There was some kind of device on their ears. We were chased into the forest containing the third puzzle. Once we solved it, we made our way toward the castle."

"So Descole, rather Mr. Sycamore, was controlling the entire game, from beginning to end," Edgeworth said.

Amelia nodded. "Yes, but at the time, we didn't know who was behind it."

"Ms. Ruth, once you had entered the castle, you were declared the winner of the game. Please tell the court what happened when you received your 'prize.'"

"The castle...it was intimidating at first, but inviting on the inside. At least, until we entered one of the rooms. That's when a masked man presented himself as Descole and separated us. He ordered his guards to escort me to another room where a machine known as the Detragan awaited...with Mr. Whistler. That's when I realized the man who invited me was in on it too. He declared me the winner and ignored me when I said I wanted the prize to go to my grandfather. He tried to hook me up to that oversized organ...it seemed it stored the memories of his deceased daughter, and I was the best candidate to resurrect them."

A hush fell over the courtroom as Amelia concluded her testimony. The judge blinked, uncertain of how to process it. "Ms...Ms. Ruth, what a terrible betrayal, but I don't understand what you mean by being 'hooked up' to an organ or 'resurrecting stored memories'?"

"There was a helmet attached to the Detragan. Mr. Whistler tried to put the helmet on me to transfer the memories from the Detragan to my brain."

"Wh-whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!"

"It sounds unbelievable, but it's true, Your Honor," said Edgeworth, looking smug. "The defendant designed the Detragan for multiple purposes. One could say he deceived many with it. He worked _especially_ hard to get those precious memories in there and--" He paused with a chuckle, feigning shock as he turned toward the defense. "Why, Mr. Wright! I'd almost forgotten you were there! It's time for your cross-examination, isn't it?"

_Sometimes I think he enjoys making my life miserable,_ thought Phoenix. "Yes, if you're done talking. Ms. Ruth, may we assume Mr. Whistler did not succeed in implanting his daughter's memories into your mind?"

"Yes, Mr. Wright," said Amelia. "Fortunately, Professor Layton and his friends interrupted the process."

"You said Mr. Whistler was 'in on it.' Did he mention anything about why he invited you in the first place?"

"Well, he initially claimed it was because he wanted to give an opportunity to a person as gifted as his daughter. Being a chess champion at my school, I fit the profile. But now I see he wanted someone compatible with her memories. After all, he had failed with the little girl. But then..."

"Wait, what little girl?"

"The little girl who was with Mr. Whistler. I think her name was Nina. She was kidnapped and given the 'memory treatment' as well. It worked for a while, but she broke free mentally."

Phoenix felt his face grow hot. _Oh...oh yeah. Mr. Sycamore did mention something about that..._

"As usually happens with those who are not willing," Edgeworth chimed in, looking deep in thought. "And so, Whistler and Descole found a more fitting candidate in you."

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth," Amelia replied. "I resisted too, but as I said, I was saved. After that, it was revealed that the experiment had already succeeded...on the woman from the opera, Janice Quatlane!"

"You say the experiment worked on Ms. Quatlane?!" asked the judge, stunned. "That means... er, what does that mean?"

"It means, Your Honor," Edgeworth started, "that Mr. Oswald Whistler attempted the experiment on multiple people, including Janice Quatlane. During the event at Ambrosia, Melina Whistler had been, for lack of a better word, 'resurrected' for some time. Her memories existed within the mind of Ms. Quatlane."

The judge gasped. "That can't be..."

"It is, Your Honor," Amelia told him. "After this was revealed, Descole forced Janice, rather Melina, to sing the melody while he played on Detragan's keyboard. He was trying to summon the ruins of the ancient city, to make it come up from the water."

"What a show that must have been!"

_Really, Your Honor?_ Phoenix thought, his feelings of embarrassment proportional to the judge's unabashed enthusiasm.

"Oh, I suppose," Amelia said. "It was hard to see after a while, with all the destruction occurring, but the music itself was pretty. Mr. Whistler used variations of it in his opera, too."

"Hmph..." The judge thought for a moment. "I should very much like to look into this Mr. Whistler. I think I would enjoy his operas."

"Is that a fact, Your Honor?" asked Edgeworth, as smug as ever. "Because today, your wish comes true. He is the next witness."

_And there's confirmation_ , thought Phoenix. _I'd better get my notes ready._

"But before that," Edgeworth continued, "Ms. Ruth, I can't help but notice you spoke of destruction while music was playing. Can you elaborate?"

"Descole...failed to bring the city of Ambrosia to the surface," Amelia responded. "He...grew increasingly frustrated and irate, and so he turned the Detragan into giant weapon that could walk around and tear at the land. We were surrounded by forest, so many trees were damaged in the rampage."

"So he lost his temper when he didn't get what he wanted, and chose to destroy everything?"

"That's the way it looked, yes. It was even worse after Professor Layton was able to summon the ancient city when Descole couldn't. Descole became angrier...unhinged, even...he engaged the professor in a swordfight...and the Detragan went out of control, eventually coming apart and crashing around the shore."

Phoenix sighed inwardly. _Painting my client as a violent psychotic, one. My case for presenting him as a sane human being, zero._

The judge shook his head. "Oh, my..."

"That must have been frightening," Edgeworth said.

"Yes," Amelia replied. "It's a miracle no one died, or was gravely injured."

“Yes,” Edgeworth repeated, the smirk back on his face. “We seem to be discovering many miracles as of late. Ms. Ruth, thank you for your account of the events at Ambrosia. This has been...most enlightening.”

_What is he up to?_ Phoenix wondered nervously.

“Nick,” Maya whispered, “I don't like where this is going either, but you've got to stop freaking out every time Mr. Edgeworth acts like he has everything figured out.”

“Oh...y-yeah...”

* * *

Shortly after Amelia's testimony concluded, a middle-aged man with small, circle-framed glasses and curly, graying hair appeared at the witness stand.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation for the court," said Edgeworth.

"My name is Oswald Whistler," the man replied. "I am an opera composer."

"Mr. Whistler, you composed the opera, 'The Eternal Kingdom' for a special occasion, did you not?"

"I did."

"Please testify to the court about how you came to compose the opera."

"Ah, that was... several years ago, now? My Melina was still alive, though barely holding on. The man named Descole approached me one day with a discovery...and a request. He had found an ancient crest on an island several hundred kilometers from the main land. Suspecting that the markings on the crest indicated music, he requested my help in deciphering it. I reluctantly agreed...and extracted the melody from the crest. It was beautiful...one of the things that helped me through that difficult time. When Melina passed away, our last hope was the opera, which I was all too eager to compose...after Descole asked me."

"Hmph..." The judge absorbed the testimony. "I am sorry to hear of your daughter's passing. I can see how the memory of a loved one could be the driving force behind one's actions, even if someone else made the request." He glanced over to Phoenix. "Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

_There's something I'm still not clear on,_ thought Phoenix. "Mr. Whistler, what did you mean when you said the opera was your last hope?"

Oswald was surprised by the question at first. "Oh, I...I was devastated when my only daughter passed away. I wanted a way to preserve her memories, so Descole constructed a machine that would do precisely that, among other things."

"That machine would be the Detragan mentioned earlier?"

"Yes."

"What were the other purposes of this machine?"

"It had rows of keys, and could be played like an organ. The difference being, the output was comparable to that of a full orchestra."

"Simply amazing!" exclaimed the judge. "I would like to hear this music."

"Alas, Your Honor, the Detragan is locked away with the police archives," Edgeworth cut in. "It would require a long process with extensive paperwork in order to release it."

_The judge looks positively heartbroken,_ Phoenix observed. "I bet the sound was just beautiful. So you used this Detragan in the opera itself?"

"That is correct, Mr. Wright."

"You were previously convicted of being an accomplice in the abductions that took place then. This Detragan was used to transfer the memories of your daughter into the minds of two people, one being a young girl called Nina. According to the case report, you and my client lured her to the island, where you performed the experiment."

Oswald pressed his lips into a thin line, a hint of remorse in his expression. "That...that is true."

"How long did you keep Nina there until the opera's debut?"

"Several months, I believe."

"But why?" Phoenix asked.

Oswald looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"You had transferred the memories of your daughter to this new girl. Why did you keep her around and still go through with the opera and the game?"

Whispers sounded across the audience.

"The results...were imperfect," Oswald explained. "It's true Nina held Melina's memories, and often presented herself as my daughter. However, every now and then she would experience an episode and realize who she truly was. I had to act fast, and put her through the procedure again. And... not being musically inclined, she had difficulty learning the melody of the 'Song of the Sea.'"

"That doesn't explain why you kept her around..."

A dark cloud appeared to pass over the man's eyes. "Mr. Wright. That...is personal...but...I suppose I cannot hide the truth. The only reason I kept her around is because I desperately wanted my daughter back, no matter how impossible that was. I was grief-stricken and in denial. I couldn't let her die again."

_Hmm...so far, this is aligning with everything Mr. Sycamore told me_ , thought Phoenix, and was then interrupted by a nagging thought in the corner of his mind. _Wait...that's it. The thing that connects them._ "Mr. Whistler, Descole permitted the girl to stay, despite the issues with the experiment, correct?"

"Er, yes, well, he was only concerned with finding someone to sing the melody. As long as he had that, he did not object to what I did. I found that most strange at first, but I assume he was willing to do anything to ensure my cooperation with the plot."

"Yes, I believe that was part of it," Phoenix said with a nod. "Mr. Whistler...are you aware my client also once had a daughter?"

"He..." Oswald's face filled up with pure surprise. "Well, no. He never spoke of his life. All I knew was that he was a scientist pursuing a mystery about an ancient civilization. But...now that I think about it, it would explain some of his behavior."

"What do you mean?"

"As I said, he allowed Nina's presence on the island, even as we moved forward with the plot. I thought it was my imagination at first, but there were brief moments I sensed him staring at the two of us. I had expected him to demand I return to work...but then, he would just walk away. He was enigmatic...but even he couldn't hide everything about himself. He gave off an aura of despair, regret. I never acknowledged it because I was still dealing with my own grief."

"So you do you think Descole felt regret when he saw the two of you together?"

"Objection!" Edgeworth interrupted. "Mr. Wright, try to stay on topic. We are here to talk about your client's crimes, not his feelings about whatever relationship his cohort had with an abductee!"

Phoenix placed his hands on his hips, a triumphant smirk on his face. "But Mr. Edgeworth, I am very much on topic here. You don't think it's interesting at all? A masked man who abducts people and causes destruction in pursuing an ancient civilization...letting people go unharmed, preparing feasts for winners, and...allowing a man who recently lost his daughter to be reunited with her, if only through a memory?"

"What are you getting at, Mr. Wright?" Edgeworth asked impatiently.

"The same thing I've been getting at these last two days. This goes beyond a person being complex. In the testimony we are hearing, the motive is slowly being revealed. Haven't you noticed?"

A great silence fell over the courtroom, stopping Phoenix's momentum dead in its tracks. _What's with everybody?_ he wondered, as nervous as he was annoyed.

"If you're done making a fool of yourself," Edgeworth started calmly, "we are currently discussing the crimes themselves. We are still a ways from discussing motives. And so I say again, Mr. Wright, stay on topic."

The groan Phoenix expelled in response was a perfect companion to the souring feeling in his stomach. "F...fine." _I'll just have to bring this point up later._ He then turned back to the witness. "Witness...was there anything else you noticed about my client? That is, did he keep you in the loop regarding his plans?"

"Not for everything," Oswald replied. "I knew there was to be an opera, followed by the game, which would conclude at the island. My roles were to compose and perform the opera, and to ensure the 'winner' received her prize."

"So Nina wasn't involved in the plan."

"No, she wasn't."

"Mr. Whistler, one last thing. You mentioned that you had to keep performing the brainwashing procedure on the girl because she kept breaking free of the memories, which she ultimately did since she was able to return to her family. What caused the final break? Did it occur as a result of your arrest?"

Oswald shook his head no. "She broke free shortly before that. It was...it was due to that man."

"Which man? Are you referring to my client?"

"No. The man who fought your client when his plans fell apart. I refer, of course, to the gentleman in the top hat sitting in the audience... Hershel Layton!"

The name hit Phoenix like a sack of coins. "Gah...!" _Why do I keep doing this to myself?_

"Oh no," Maya whispered in understanding. "With the professor's name popping up again, you know Mr. Edgeworth will jump on him as a witness."

"Yeah. I was hoping we could have another day before that happened. I really wanted to speak to him more about what he witnessed at these ancient sites."

"Hershel Layton?!" exclaimed the judge. "Well! You must tell us how that happened."

"I wasn't there when it happened," Oswald told him. "He somehow coaxed her out of her trance, but I don't know any more than that. You would have to ask him."

Edgeworth only chuckled in turn. "It would be my pleasure, Mr. Whistler." He took an exaggerated bow. "I thank you for sharing your story with the court today. Your Honor?"

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth?" responded the judge.

"The prosecution requests twenty minutes to prepare the next witness, as I am calling him ahead of schedule."

"Request granted. We will reconvene in twenty minutes."

_Screwed_ , Phoenix thought as the gavel slammed the sound block. _I am so, so screwed..._


	6. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revelations continue -- little of good, plenty of bad and ugly. Sycamore's past again catches up with him. Phoenix and Maya see another familiar face.

Back in the defendant's lobby, Phoenix tried to conceal his dread, but with one fewer person in the room, he was losing that battle.

"...Mr. Wright?"

"Crap!" came the unintentional reply.

Sycamore was stunned by the outburst. "Are... are you all right, Mr. Wright?"

"Uh..." Phoenix briefly glanced at Maya, whose raised eyebrow only confirmed his error. Realizing he had once again forgotten his mentor's rule, he put a hand to his head, laughing off his "response." "Sorry, it's just... Edgeworth drives me nuts sometimes. He likes pulling this kind of thing every now and then. You'd think I'd be used to it by now...haha..."

Sycamore offered a look of sympathy. "It sounds as though you two have a complicated relationship."

"I guess so. I mean, he's actually very dependable and I would trust him with my life, but sometimes, he's just not an approachable guy, you know. Sorry, I guess that sounds weird."

"No. I understand. One might say I have my own complicated relationship, but in my case...I've been the unapproachable one..."

Seeing the man so downhearted, Phoenix felt his nervousness start to wane. "So, you and Professor Layton have been both friends and enemies."

"That is simplifying things, but I wouldn't say it was wrong."

 _Complicated._ "I guess that makes this upcoming testimony difficult, especially for you."

"It does, but I also anticipated this happening," Sycamore said. "He is, after all, a witness to all my crimes."

"It's enough to make one ask, why hasn't he testified earlier?" came the voice from the door.

Sycamore's mouth fell open as Oswald Whistler entered the room. "M-Mr. Whistler."

"Looking at you now, I can hardly believe you were the one beneath the mask," the older man said as he approached. "I must know... why? Why did you choose me? And...why did you allow me to pursue the dream of bringing back my daughter?"

Sycamore brought his gaze down, but met Oswald's eyes from time to time. "Those...questions are...not...without complicated answers. It's true I chose you for your talents. I needed to be successful, and I needed your cooperation."

"But...back at the castle, with Nina..."

Sycamore only closed his eyes, expelling a deep sigh. "I...don't wish to discuss that. Not here. Not now."

Oswald backed off then. "I see. So, even after everything, you..." With a look of disappointment, he started to walk away.

"Mr. Whistler," Sycamore suddenly said. "I never told you then...but it was an exquisite opera."

Oswald stopped in his tracks for a moment, and then shuffled out of the room.

* * *

All was silent in the courtroom as the man with the top hat made his way to the witness stand.

"Witness," Edgeworth said, "please state your name and occupation for the court."

"My name is Hershel Layton," the man replied. "I am a professor at Gressenheller University."

"Professor Layton," Edgeworth continued, with a hint of smugness, "I can't help but notice your name has come up a few times in this trial. You know the defendant, do you not?"

Layton nodded. "I do."

"What is your relation to him?"

"That is...rather complicated, I'm afraid. We are colleagues, but we have also been friends as well as enemies."

"I see," Edgeworth said, then launched his next attack. "And what is your _true_ relation to him?"

 _Ugh_ , thought Phoenix, flinching. _Oh well, I guess it was going to come out eventually._

Layton expressed his discomfort with a soft groan, touching the brim of his hat as he lowered his eyes.

"Why, Professor Layton, whatever is the matter?" asked Edgeworth with a chuckle. "You are well aware that by now, the prosecution already has the details concerning your true relationship. But not everyone is granted the privilege of being the first to tell his story."

The professor seemed to relax, though slightly. He brought his arm down, not changing the direction of his gaze. "Biologically, we share parents. He is my elder brother."

At those words, the audience erupted, expressions of shock being voiced all around.

"Order!" shouted the judge, slamming his gavel repeatedly. "Order! Order! Professor! Professor Layton...did you just say that the defendant is your brother?!"

"Biologically," Edgeworth told him, amused. "I must say, I am impressed with how you deemed it necessary to add that detail. How...scientific of you, even."

 _"Is he making fun of the professor?"_ Maya fumed. _"Jerk."_

"Not at all," Edgeworth told her. "I assure the defense that I am taking this matter very seriously. You see, Professor Layton here is currently under suspicion of harboring a fugitive, but due to his ties to the Yard, as well as all the favors he did for Inspectors Grosky and Chelmey, the charge will likely never manifest itself. So I'm not interested in that."

 _Really, Edgeworth?_ thought Phoenix, feeling himself breaking into a sweat.

"As soon as I caught wind of this potential charge, naturally, I became curious. After all, what would give the good professor reason to harbor a fugitive in the first place? The fugitive being the defendant, by the way. And so, I looked further into the matter, and came across an interesting detail about both men's pasts. As in, the fact that they were related!"

"Hershel Layton and Desmond Sycamore," murmured the judge. "Well, I doubt most would connect the two straightaway. They don't share a last name."

"Not at this point in time. But we'll get more into that later." Edgeworth turned back toward the witness chair. "Professor Layton, you were present during the events in Misthallery and Ambrosia, and encountered the defendant there. Did you recognize him at all then?"

Layton shook his head. "No. There was a familiar feeling when he showed himself in Misthallery, but even if I had seen him without the costume, I would not have recognized him. After all, it had been thirty years since our last meeting."

"How did you interact with the defendant then?"

"I met him several times when he was disguised as Doland Noble, and then, when I exposed him and his plot, we fought one another."

"In what way?"

"He was trying to destroy the town with the excavation machines...until I launched a boat full of large rocks at him using a makeshift catapult. He responded by reassembling the machines and throwing concrete blocks from a toppled landmark."

"My goodness!" exclaimed the judge. "That sounds...incredibly dangerous."

Edgeworth gave a small laugh. "Yes, one can see just how unbalanced the defendant was back then. I can hardly blame the witness for trying to defend the town. Professor, thank you for that additional detail about the defendant in Misthallery. It seems to follow a pattern that the defendant becomes destructive when he is unable to get what he wants."

Phoenix looked annoyed. _Yes, Edgeworth, you've made that point clear..._

"Moving on, Professor Layton, you were also in attendance for the opera 'The Eternal Kingdom.' Please testify about these events, starting from the beginning."

Layton nodded. "I received an invitation from Janice Quatlane, one of my former students, and the star performer of the opera. I did not know about the game or its prize. I did participate, however, and was in fact one of the few to advance to the end. Once we reached the castle, I decided to conduct my own investigation of the area."

"I see," said the judge. "Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

"Professor Layton," Phoenix started, "you said you didn't know about the game. What drew you to the opera, aside from being invited by a former student?"

"Well, Mr. Wright, I do have a fondness for opera," Layton explained. "But truthfully, I also attended because something seemed to be troubling my student...or the woman I had thought to be my student. "

"'Thought to be'?" asked the judge. "Well, was she your student, or wasn't she?"

"Yes and no. Janice Quatlane was my student. However, at the time, her mind was possessed...by the memories of Melina Whistler. As was revealed earlier, the initial experiment of transferring memories had been a success. Melina's spirit was strong...and Janice wanted nothing more than for her closest friend to return."

The judge shook his head. "I can scarcely wrap my mind around that."

 _Don't worry, Your Honor, I think that's most of us right now,_ Phoenix thought _._ "Professor, you said you decided to investigate the castle. Why?"

"When I first saw the castle on the island, I knew that Descole was behind everything," said Layton. "I wanted to seek him out, but first, I found Nina, the girl who had been missing for months."

"Mr. Whistler testified that you were the one to 'coax her out of her trance.' Can you go into detail about that?"

"I'm not entirely sure that can be credited to me. During the game, she presented herself as a girl named Melina, though Mr. Whistler pretended there was no relation to his daughter. As for 'coaxing her,' I was simply present when Melina's influence lost its hold on Nina's mind. When that happened, instead of returning her to the machine, I spoke with her about her true name and her life at home."

"What happened after that?" asked Phoenix.

"We went to rejoin the group. By that time, Officer Clamp Grosky had arrived, so I thought it safe to let him look after the girl. Then we all rushed to the room containing the Detragan in order to save Amelia."

"It was at this point that the defendant attempted to summon the ancient kingdom?" Edgeworth asked.

"Yes," replied Layton.

"The court will hear your account of these events."

"Yes, Mr. Prosecutor. Descole revealed he had deciphered markings from the crest found on the island shore. They were compositions of music that, when played together, would cause the city of Ambrosia to rise from the waters: The Song of the Sea, and the Song of the Stars. But Descole soon found that these two songs would not perform the task. It fell on me to solve the puzzle...but before that could happen, Descole grew angry and transformed the Detragan into a weapon of destruction--the Detra-Gigant."

"This matches the testimony of previous witnesses, Your Honor," Edgeworth stated. "Even someone close to the defendant has given an eyewitness account of the man's crimes and violent nature. With all of this in mind, I believe we have sufficient evidence to convict the defendant and give him a sentence he so rightly deserves."

"Objection!" shouted Phoenix. "Mr. Edgeworth, I'm surprised at you! Are you not always preaching about the importance of finding the truth? If you end this trial now, then so does the chance for the truth to be known."

Edgeworth simply looked bored. "And what truth is that, Mr. Wright?"

"The truth you were so intent on pushing aside until a later time, remember? The truth surrounding my client's motives."

The statement did nothing to rattle the man. "Hmm...yes, I seem to recall you saying something to that effect, earlier. Then, I assume, you intend to cross-examine the witness again?"

 _Uh-oh...this isn't another trap, is it?_ Despite this, Phoenix stood poised. "Well, of course! How else do you expect to uncover this truth?"

Edgeworth only showed a smirk. "Very well. What are you waiting for, Mr. Wright?"

 _For you to stop talking, would be a start_ , Phoenix thought. "Professor Layton, Amelia stated that Descole converted the machine to excavate the ruins themselves."

"That is true. His attempt to summon the city failed, and he tore at the ground as a last resort."

"What happened after that?"

"Janice, or rather Melina, tried to stop him. He pushed her aside, putting her in danger. My apprentice, Luke Triton, attempted to save her, but this, too, caught Descole's attention. In response, he..." With a pair of sad eyes, Layton trailed off.

 _This must be what Edgeworth wanted me to draw out,_ Phoenix thought. _Well, guess I have no choice but to press on, no matter how bad it makes my case look._ "It's okay, Professor. My client has already entered a guilty plea. I've anticipated an unpleasant revelation or two." _Or twenty, sheesh._ "I've sworn to represent Mr. Sycamore and defend him to the best of my ability, and I never go back on my oaths. Please...even if things look dire and hopeless...I need the truth. This court needs the truth."

"...Very well, Mr. Wright," Layton said. "When Luke went to rescue Melina, Descole launched a weapon at him, in the hopes that it would kill him. I intercepted the attack with my own...contraption, so it hit me instead, but I was able to get away unharmed."

While dozens of conversations triggered among the audience, the judge was looking in the direction of the witness stand in shock. "The defendant...tried to kill that boy?!"

"Yes, he tried," Layton told him, this time making no effort to hide his despair. "That much is true. Descole...had a tendency to emotionally react in the moment. I am grateful I was able to prevent...something irreversible. Now, more than ever..."

 _This is really hard on the Professor,_ Phoenix observed _._ "Once you thwarted this attempt, what happened?"

"Luke was able to save Melina, while Descole and I dueled. Eventually, I found my way to the Detragan, showing Descole a detail he had overlooked while deciphering the songs. I revealed there was in fact a third song hidden among the writings, and with this, and Melina's voice, we made the ruins of Ambrosia rise from the sea."

"It was said that Descole became furious when this happened."

"Yes. It was difficult for him, I imagine, after so many months of work, seeing someone like me succeed where he could not. I am not excusing his reaction, mind you, but I see how frustrating that might have been."

"What did my client do then?"

"He dueled with me once more. Unfortunately, during our fight, the Detragan became a dangerous vehicle, stumbling about. Descole fell and was presumed dead, while the rest of us escaped."

Edgeworth only laughed. "Well? Are you satisfied, Mr. Wright? Another account of your client losing his patience, and behaving atrociously in great detail."

 _He certainly knows how to put on a show._ "Are you on that again?" Phoenix asked. "Maybe you're the one who should learn patience."

"I'm a very patient man, Mr. Wright," Edgeworth retorted. "But it is also my duty to hold the attention of this court. For example, at this point, I could call five more witnesses to recount the events at Ambrosia, but I won't. They would add nothing new to this case."

"So what now, Mr. Edgeworth?" the judge asked. "Are you saying you have nothing more to add regarding the opera and game?"

"That is correct, Your Honor."

"Then..."

"I hope this is not too much of am imposition, Your Honor, but I would like to call for another recess. This time, thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes?" the older man asked. "Whatever for?"

"I will proceed to the third part of this case...the third Azran site, and the location of the defendant's next scheme," Edgeworth told him. "However, I received news this morning and need to confirm the source. When we reconvene, I will share my findings with the court."

The judge nodded. "Very well. Let us reconvene in thirty minutes."

* * *

Back in the defendant's lobby, it was Sycamore's turn to be anxious. He started to pace back and forth, a worried expression on his face.

"You okay, Mr. Sycamore?" Maya asked. "You seem...unsettled about something. In fact, now more than before."

"Ah, well..." The man came to a stop, but his stare remained fixed to the floor. "When Mr. Edgeworth spoke of my next scheme, he was referring to something on a larger scale. Just ever so slightly."

"Really? Even bigger than the Ambrosia thing? Wait, does it have something to do with the hoaxes mentioned yesterday? You didn't make up a bunch of stuff to scare people, did you?"

"In a sense, Ms. Fey. The next part of my plot took place in Monte d'Or – a city deliberately built on Azran ruins. In a short eighteen years, it became a thriving site for tourism, full of casinos, museums, racetracks and other venues. I...decided to add to the city's entertainment in style. I created a character known as the Masked Gentleman...different from my own disguise, but not by much, in retrospect. This Masked Gentleman would perform feats of magic, which I called 'Dark Miracles'... acts meant to equally frighten and enthrall an audience."

Maya grinned at that. "Actually, that sounds pretty cool! I'm almost sorry I missed that...well, maybe not so much the scary parts. Unless they weren't too scary."

Sycamore gave a small chuckle in response. "Well, not to boast, but the dark miracles did draw a large crowd night after night. The truth is, however, I required this distraction while I operated in the shadows."

"Then someone else was playing the role of this 'Masked Gentleman'?" Phoenix asked.

"Not...just...someone else," Sycamore responded with great remorse. "A man who was important to the city, and in fact, was the very reason the city existed. Someone important to Layton...and a person who was easily exploited due to his amnesia."

"...Oh." That instantly brought down Maya's spirits. "Wow. That's...really mean...and kind of crazy, honestly. No offense. But why traumatize the guy? I mean, more than he probably already was?"

"I could give a dozen reasons, none of which are satisfactory. I'd managed to hold on to a few of my henchmen after the events at Ambrosia, but it was easy to convince that man to come to Monte d'Or. I fed him half-truths about his past, told him of a great betrayal, and awaited his response. He was all too eager to be my pawn. It was...too perfect. When I think back, I can't believe I used someone like that so easily, so callously..."

"Yeah..." said Phoenix. "I'm...having a hard time believing you did."

"That's because you didn't know him then."

All three turned toward the source of the male voice, which came from the direction of the exit. The doors slowly opened, revealing three people--Hershel Layton, and two strangers. The unknown man wore a plum colored vest over a white dress shirt and khakis; he had red hair, and eyes that appeared determined behind black framed glasses. The blonde woman wore a pale blue dress under a long fashionable coat, an unusual pendant at her neck. Her expression mirrored the man's.

 _Doesn't anyone in this building know how to NOT eavesdrop?_ Phoenix thought, annoyed.

"Professor!" exclaimed Maya as the trio walked in and closed the door. "And...uh...we haven't met," she said to the two unknown visitors. "I'm Maya Fey, co-counsel to Phoenix Wright, the spiky-haired guy over here."

 _Really, Miss Topknot? You're going to make fun of my hair?_ "Just...Phoenix Wright will do. It's nice to meet you. And you are...?"

"My name is Randall Ascot," said the man, then gestured to the woman. "This is my wife, Angela Ascot."

"Mr. and Mrs. Ascot," Phoenix said, nodding. "I'm sorry, you were saying something earlier about knowing my client?"

"I knew as much as he allowed me," said Randall coldly. "Or more accurately, I was so fixated on revenge that I didn't care to know him beyond our working relationship. Incidentally, I am the man he used in his plot for Monte d'Or. I donned the costume of the Masked Gentleman and performed the acts as instructed. Having regained my memory all at once, and then fed a story of betrayal, I had little time to process how ridiculous it all was. When the truth was finally presented to me, I couldn't believe the horrible things I had done for a lie."

Sycamore said nothing, giving the man a brief glance before looking elsewhere.

"The worst part is knowing what he did to the ones I cared about..."

"What happened?" Maya asked.

This time, Angela answered. "Your client...Mr. Sycamore...he grew impatient as his plot stalled, and eventually kidnapped me. He tried to ruin one of Randall's dearest friends, Henry Ledore, a man who built the city of Monte d'Or in the hopes of finding Randall, who had gone missing...and Alphonse Dalston, a childhood friend despite his difficult nature..."

"Is it true you had amnesia?" asked Phoenix.

Randall nodded. "I did. Many years ago, Hershel here and I had gone exploring in the ruins that now lie beneath Monte d'Or. Unfortunately, we encountered a trap...and the ground collapsed beneath me. Despite Hershel's best efforts, I fell, hitting a river and eventually washing up on the shores of a nearby village. For eighteen years, I lived as one of the residents...until the man named Descole contacted me."

"Wow. All those years..."

"Yes, you can imagine how I felt when I was told those years were lost because someone close to me had betrayed me. I couldn't believe I let such a foul lie nearly destroy the relationships I am fortunate enough to still have." He shook his head. "But enough about the past. I have spoken with the police forces from both London and Monte d'Or, and with my friends' support, I was able to convince them of the charges the culprit deserves. I also relayed this to the prosecutor of this case. I'm sure none of them were prepared for what I had to say. I asked their permission to pass along the same to the defense, and they granted me this much. But before I say anything else..." Randall turned to Sycamore, taking a few steps in his direction. "Are you really that masked man, the one who used me and took advantage of the fact that I had amnesia?"

Sycamore nodded. "I am."

Randall paused a moment, closing his eyes as though to process the words. Then, as quickly as he had stopped, he came forward, arm raised, a tightened fist moving faster than the rest of him.

The blow landed squarely on Sycamore's cheekbone, knocking the glasses from his face. The man stumbled back with a grunt, the red frames landing beside his feet.

"Randall!" Angela cried out. Layton and Maya offered shocked gasps as well.

 _Geez_ , thought Phoenix, equally stunned. _He's lucky no guards are posted in the room right now._

Still, Randall did not escape the consequences of the spontaneous act of violence. He quickly shook out his hand, trying to soothe his bones. "Ow, ow! Wasn't expecting that to sting so..." He briefly shuddered, then regained his composure. "Not the most mature response, but I will admit it felt satisfying. Mr. Sycamore, or Descole, or whatever name you go by, I don't know why you chose me, or why you put me through such hell and anguish for months. But when everything was revealed to me, I was met with nothing but compassion and understanding. Because of this, I was able to reflect on many things, one of which being the reason that Monte d'Or exists." He turned slightly, no longer looking at the man. "Coming here today has been...difficult, especially after learning you're related to one of my oldest friends. But regardless of how I feel right now, and in spite of what you did...ultimately, you were the one who fulfilled the conditions of the hunt as laid out by Henry, and brought back the man known as Randall." He briefly reestablished eye contact with Sycamore. "We've decided to withdraw all charges. Consider that your reward."

With that, he looked to Angela, and the two walked out of the lobby.

* * *

"The court is now in session for the trial of...hmm?" The judge blinked, looking over in the direction of the defendant's chair. "Mr. Sycamore? Are you all right? There's something different about you, particularly the swollen area around your cheek."

 _A hard punch to the face tends to do that to most people,_ Phoenix thought anxiously.

"Ah, it's...nothing, Your Honor," Sycamore replied, smiling through a slightly discolored, noticeable bump just below his glasses. "Just repayment for a most unusual service."

"That's putting it one way," Maya remarked quietly.

The judge shook his head. "I don't exactly understand, but I won't dwell on it. As I was saying, this court is now in session. Mr. Edgeworth, did you acquire what you needed during the break?"

Edgeworth nodded. "I did, Your Honor. Originally, we were going to focus on the events at a city known as Monte d'Or, where the defendant carried out the next part of his scheme. However, this morning I received a call from, shall we say, a rather important citizen of the city. Backed by the mayor and the police force, he expressed a desire to withdraw all charges against the defendant."

"Just like that?!"

"Yes. I confirmed it when we spoke in person moments ago. It would seem this citizen has a complicated history with the defendant, but spoke of fairness and a need to move forward in his life. He thought the only way to accomplish this was to 'forgive and forget,' as they say." Edgeworth showed a smirk. "If only our justice system could reform criminals this way, every time, I would be out of a job. But this does not rule out any civil suits filed by the people present during the events at Monte d'Or. Anyway, I have nothing further to present today, but tomorrow, I expect the complete results of the defendant's costume, and will go over the rest of the defendant's plot."

"Very well. Court is adjourned until tomorrow morning."

* * *

"Layton," Sycamore said as the man walked past him in the lobby, prompting him to stop. "Why did you conceal the matter of your own investigation?"

"Forgive me," said Layton, turning toward him. "I did not wish to add to your troubles. Besides, as Mr. Edgeworth was all too eager to point out, my history of aiding the police will prove beneficial to me in this time. At least, I can only hope."

Sycamore showed a half-smile. "It appears you have inherited some of my bad habits. You can tell me anything, Layton. I have seen almost everything in this world, and have dealt with far worse than someone who simply offered asylum to a broken man with no friends."

"I..." Layton was slightly blushing at the compliment. "Of...of course. I will keep that in mind, Desmond."

The doors to the lobby opened, and several policemen walked in, trailed by Miles Edgeworth.

"Well," said Sycamore, "it's time for me to go."

"We'll try to drop in later," Maya told him.

"Actually, you won't," Edgeworth piped up after the two professors had exited. When met with confused looks from the defense team, he added, "With the new information coming to light, Mr. Sycamore will be subjected to questioning until late. I am sorry, but this is out of my hands."

 _Well, at this point, I don't have much to discuss with him regarding the case itself, I don't think,_ thought Phoenix. _Still, it would be good to check in on him._ "Let me know if anything changes, Edgeworth. Even if it means we only get five minutes."

Edgeworth nodded. "I will, Wright." He started to turn when Phoenix stopped him.

"Um...Edgeworth...something's been bugging me for a while."

"What is it?"

"Well...when you first brought me in on this case, I just assumed you needed someone you trusted to look after the evidence, but...considering how things turned out..." Phoenix looked up at him. "Did you know? I'm pretty sure I lost contact with the Legal League after I ended up in Labyrinthia, and the stuff about the government project wasn't exactly world news. I didn't even get a chance to tell you about the adventure itself, about Professor Layton, so...did you know it would turn out this way?"

Edgeworth stood there a moment, offering only a cryptic smirk. "Regardless of my original intentions, it all worked out in that man's favor. Would you not agree?"

Phoenix stared back, annoyed. _You know that's not what I mean, Edgeworth..._

"Typical," Maya murmured.

"Anyway," said Edgeworth, "there is another matter I must attend to. I'll be in touch."

 _So suddenly?_ "Wait," Phoenix said. "This is about tomorrow, isn't it?" He barely completed the sentence before a familiar crack rang out inches from his head, causing his ear to sting. "Argh!"

"Phoenix Wright," came the haughty voice, a familiar sound that dredged up most unpleasant memories. "You should know better than to expect your opponent to reveal his hand."

 _Dear God...it can't be..._ Phoenix turned around, seeing a young woman with medium length platinum hair and an outfit consisting of a long sleeved blouse, a short dark dress, and matching gloves and boots. In her hand was a whip, and on her face...that unsurprising sneer.

"M-Ms. von Karma?!" exclaimed Maya.

"But of course," replied the woman, and looked at Phoenix with a smirk. "What's the matter, Phoenix Wright? Why aren't you happier to see me?"

"Gee, I dunno," he began sarcastically. "Why can't you ever make your presence known by saying 'hello' like an ordinary person?"

"Because I am extraordinary. Perfect, even."

 _Perfectly insufferable,_ Phoenix thought, but knew better than to voice this opinion.

"Franziska," Edgeworth greeted her. "Thank you for coming. That 'thing' I asked you to do..."

The young woman rolled her eyes before turning to face him. "Yes, yes, Miles. It is done."

"Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you. The sooner this trial ends, the sooner I can get back to crushing you."

 _Yeesh,_ though Phoenix. _Is she still on that?_

"All the same, I appreciate it," Edgeworth told her.

Seeing that she was not going to get a rise out of him, Franziska gave a "hmph" before unleashing her whip back on Phoenix.

"Ow!" Phoenix shouted. "What was that for?!"

"Just letting you know how glad I am to see you again, Phoenix Wright," the young woman said, her amusement quickly returning. The whip cracked once more.

"Ow-ow-owww!" This time, it was Maya who reacted. "What the heck are you doing?!"

"Don't think I forgot about you, Maya Fey." Franziska returned the whip to its holster, and then gave a small curtsy. "Well, I shall take my leave."

When she was gone, Maya grumbled, "For a minute there, yeah, I was hoping she _did_ forget."

"That makes two of us," Phoenix said.

"I don't believe in perfection, but unfortunately, Franziska's memory is one thing that comes close," Edgeworth told them. "You should always be on your guard when she's around."

"A little warning from you wouldn't hurt, either."

"Ha. Yes, I suppose I am partly to blame this time. But as I was saying, I have my own preparations to make – and no, I will not divulge the details," he added when Phoenix started to open his mouth. "Good luck tomorrow, Wright, Maya."

"Thanks. See you later."

"Bye, Mr. Edgeworth," said Maya.

Layton had just reentered the room when Edgeworth walked past him with a nod. "Professor Layton."

"Prosecutor Edgeworth," the man replied.

"Oh, hey, Professor," said Phoenix. "Um...I'm sorry about what happened today. I wanted more time to prepare before you were called to the stand, but I really dropped the ball on this one."

"I hardly think you did, Mr. Wright," Layton replied, approaching the two. "We would have eventually arrived at that point, and I believe no amount of reviewing or questioning would have prepared me for that."

"Yeah..." Maya chimed in. "It's never easy testifying about family, about loved ones..."

"Well," said Phoenix, "I still think I could have pushed for a bit of time in your schedule."

"I have some time now, if you do," Layton told him. "The trial isn't over, and I may be called back to the stand. If not, perhaps I'll recall a previously overlooked detail that you may find useful."

Phoenix nodded. "That's true. But we shouldn't talk here. Let's head back to the hotel."


	7. The Greater Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prosecution makes an unusual request. A surprise witness testifies.

The afternoon sun hovered between two buildings across from the hotel, its light blasting through the small window of Phoenix and Maya's room. Maya and Layton were seated at a round table where a porcelain tea set had been placed--the brew itself was fresh, delivered moments ago by the hotel staff.

Phoenix politely declined to join the two and instead stood at the window, watching the city's residents below. Arms folded, he was listening to the conversation currently playing out.

"...so Mr. Sycamore had you take his place when you were adopted by the Laytons?" asked Maya, looping her fingers through the handle of her teacup.

Layton nodded. "Yes, Ms. Fey. He wanted to concentrate on the organization that tore our family apart, but he couldn't bear to have me on my own at such a young age." Using a spoon, he gave his cup a stir as the near-black liquid became clouded. He then set the utensil aside.

"But..." Maya's expression morphed into one of empathy, the reality of the situation sinking in. "He was young, too, probably no older than my cousin is now."

"That is true, but given the circumstances, there was no one to look out for the one left behind. He unfortunately had to mature faster than his peers, and spend the remainder of his childhood pursuing the matter of Targent. I do take comfort in the fact that the Sycamore family eventually took him in." He paused, taking a sip of tea. "However, that is an experience he has not discussed much with me."

"Hmm." Phoenix finally turned away from the window, lowering his arms. "But you two were originally of the Bronev family, right? It must have been awful learning that your biological father became the leader of Targent."

Layton looked up at the man, but could only offer him a sad smile. "It came as a shock, but I remained unaware for thirty years. It was Desmond who suffered though this news on his own, who discovered our mother had died, and then...lost the family he had created to the same organization that ruined his family of origin nearly two decades before."

"That's...just horrible," Maya said.

"I still don't get why he didn't just reach out to you," said Phoenix. "Maybe he didn't want you to get caught up in the mess when you were younger, but once you were an adult, you would've been able to help him."

"Yes, he realized his folly only too late," Layton replied. "It may be that he didn't trust my strength or ability, or that he feared Targent would set their sights on me. I will not dwell on the reason, but rather, I will do what I can to be there for him now."

"I understand. Anything else?"

Layton mumbled something at first, an unusual event for the man. He quickly took another sip of tea, collecting his thoughts. "Well...there is something you should know. It concerns our names. Since the prosecution has already investigated Desmond's past as well as mine, they know our connection to Bronev, as well as our original names. Roland Layton and Lucille Layton were interested in adopting a boy named Hershel Bronev. Since I took Hershel's place, I also took his name. The boy who was originally Hershel found a new name for himself when he was adopted by the Sycamores."

"Wow," Maya remarked. "To think that you weren't even born Hershel Layton...I can't even think of you as anyone else!"

Layton chuckled, setting his cup and saucer down on the table. "Honestly, Ms. Fey, I don't think I can either. I am grateful to Desmond for what he did for me."

_I can't even imagine how weird that must be for Mr. Sycamore,_ thought Phoenix. He was about to inquire about the man when there was a knock at the door.

"Hello?" came the voice. "Mr. Wright? Maya? Are you in there?"

"That sounds like..." Phoenix turned his head. "Luke?"

Layton pushed his chair back and stood up. He walked over to the door, opening it for the young teen. "Good evening, Luke."

"Professor, hello!" Luke greeted him. "I'm so glad I got the right room."

"Yup, you've come to the Wright room!" said Maya with a cheerful smile. "How've you been, Luke?"

"Maya! It's good to see you again...well, outside of the courtroom. And you too, Mr. Wright! I hope I'm not imposing..."

"Not at all, Luke," Phoenix said. "Good to see you, too. Won't you come in?"

"Thank you, Mr. Wright." Luke stepped into the room as Layton closed the door behind him.

"So were you just in the neighborhood?" asked Phoenix.

"Actually, the professor spoke with me earlier and told me what you all were doing, so I thought I could help too. At least...I could help more than I did that first day."

"Sure. Anything you think is relevant to this case. We are past the Misthallery and Ambrosia incidents...and technically Monte d'Or, but if there's anything you can tell us about Sycamore's plot after that, then that would be great."

Luke nodded. "All right." He took a seat at the table, where Maya was pouring him a cup of tea. "Thank you," he said, reaching for a small jug. "Well, yesterday, I mentioned that Professor Layton and I traveled with Professor Sycamore..."

"Yeah," said Phoenix. "You said that you and several others took a trip for several months, if I recall."

"That's correct. We were chasing something called 'aura stones,' which would form the key to the Azran Sanctuary. Professor Sycamore told us about them, and...well..." His eyes fell as he finished pouring the milk into his tea. "...he took us with him all over the world. At first, it was exciting. We got to make new friends, and explore so many areas. Even with Targent all over the place, I enjoyed myself...but..."

Luke's tale took up the next two hours, with Layton interjecting from time to time. Though Phoenix and Maya greatly sympathized with their new friends, the deep betrayal depicted would only add another layer of difficulty to their case...

* * *

"Mr. Wright."

Surprised by the man's calm but firm tone, Phoenix turned toward his client. "Uh, yes, Mr. Sycamore?" It was the following morning, and once more, they were gathered in the defense lobby, awaiting the start of the trial.

"Why am I getting a feeling of déjà vu this morning?"

"What do you mean?"

"He means your face, Nick," Maya said bluntly. "You're getting that weird look again, like you're gonna barf at any second."

Phoenix made an uncomfortable sound but kept his thoughts to himself.  _Maybe because every new piece of info I learn about this case manages to find my nausea button?!_

"Ms. Fey makes a good point," Sycamore said. "Although, I might not have been as...forthright. Mr. Wright, it has been half a day since we have spoken. If something has happened during that time, I want you to tell me."

Phoenix let out a sigh. "Yeah, um...the thing is, Luke paid us a visit last night. He talked about the trip he and the professor took with you last year."

"Ah." Sycamore simply nodded.

_I guess nothing shocks him anymore._ "Well, basically, Luke is having trouble reconciling the two roles that you played, despite knowing what he does about your life as Sycamore. He knows about Targent and some vague details about the family you lost, but..."

"...he still can't believe how kindly I treated him and his companions, while being cruel and callous once I put on the mask," Sycamore finished.

"Yeah."

To Phoenix's surprise, the man smiled. To any passerby, it might have been perceived as warm, but given the circumstances, Phoenix knew it was an expression of resignation. "Don't worry, Mr. Wright. Luke isn't the only one struggling with this, and I expect that even more today will share in his bewilderment."

"Yeah, I bet," Phoenix replied. "Mr. Sycamore, I admire you keeping your head up in all of this, but you don't have to constantly put on a brave face for me. I know the predicament you're in. This is major. There is a real possibility you could spend the next several decades in jail. No matter what you've been through, I can't see how anyone could steel themselves for that..."

"Mr. Wright, it isn't a matter of one steeling himself. The truth is...I deserve to be there. I know that I will be miserable every day of every year that I'm there, but a part of me can rest knowing I finally did the right thing."

_But after all you've been through, to throw away the rest of your life...is that truly justice?_ Phoenix wanted to ask, but was interrupted by the door opening.

* * *

"The court is now in session for the trial of Desmond Sycamore," the judge stated.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," said Phoenix.

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor," Edgeworth added.

"Mr. Edgeworth,” said the judge, “I understand there is something you wish to present this morning."

"That is correct, Your Honor. Last night, the forensics team completed analysis of the costume Mr. Sycamore wore during his crimes."

"Splendid! Then I trust the costume is here in the courtroom today?"

"Yes. At the moment, it is with the man in charge of the Azran incidents, Inspector Clamp Grosky. I will call him in shortly." Edgeworth then turned to the defense, a serious expression on his face. "Mr. Wright... now is the time for you to decide... what sort of defender do you want to be?"

Maya rolled her eyes. "Is it just me, or does he feel the need to school you every time you face off in court?"

"I'm sure that's part of it," Phoenix whispered. "But whenever he delivers these kinds of cryptic messages, he's usually trying to tell me something... in the hopes that I'll bring about the end he desires...where the truth prevails." _I just pray it's the best end for everyone..._

"Honestly, it'd be more effective if he'd just deliver the message without that giant stick up his butt."

_Well, I can't argue with that..._

* * *

A mustached man dressed in a tan jacket and dark olive slacks approached the witness' bench, emitting great confidence. He took his place behind the bench and faced forward, his coiffure and chest hair standing nearly as proudly as the rest of him.

"Inspector Clamp Grosky," Edgeworth addressed him, "You were present when the defendant committed the majority of his crimes, is that correct?"

"Yes, Mr. Prosecutor!" the man exclaimed. "I'd been chasing Targent henchmen for a year, but this man has eluded me for three. He's always managed to get away before I could place handcuffs on him."

"I understand you brought something for the court today."

"Oh ho! Yes, I did. It's the costume the defendant wore during that time. He also wore it when he gave himself up."

"Is that so, Inspector?" asked the judge. "So his arrest wasn't a result of the pursuit."

"No, Your Honor," said Grosky. "It was Mr. Sycamore's decision to turn himself in. For once, I didn't have to drag anyone in, kicking and screaming. Gyahahaha!"

"Wow," said Maya.

"Yeah," Phoenix said in agreement. "I get the feeling Detective Gumshoe would get along with this guy."

"I get the feeling that would be a dangerous combination...and not exactly in a good way."

Edgeworth stepped out from behind the bench and approached a table containing evidence -- pieces of a costume carefully arranged, a pair of swords, and a shovel. "Your Honor," he said, putting on a pair of disposable gloves, "may I present the costume the defendant wore as he committed these crimes." He reached out and picked up a hat with white bordering the brim. A pair of large, soft ear flaps hung loose from the item.

"Hmph." The judge scanned the table. "Is that a cape I see? Not to my taste, but no matter. Mr. Edgeworth, regarding the analysis..."

"I was just getting to that, Your Honor. Multiple people were questioned about their experiences in Misthallery, Ambrosia, and Monte d'Or, and all described something resembling this costume. Also, the culprit wielded a sword at times, with which he used to duel others. I should mention that the defendant's fingerprints were found on the handles of both swords here, so it appears one was a spare. Combined with Luke Triton's testimony from the other day, we can say with confidence that the defendant was wearing this costume during those incidents. However... I've never been satisfied with words alone."

_Here we go,_ thought Phoenix.

"I think that, for the court to accept Mr. Sycamore as the true perpetrator of these crimes, Mr. Sycamore himself will need to temporarily step back into the shoes of his alter ego...literally speaking."

The judge nodded. "I see. So you are requesting the defendant change into this costume?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Very well. Mr. Sycamore shall be escorted to a room where he can change." He looked across the room, giving a nod.

Expressionless, Sycamore stood up as a uniformed man approached, taking him by the upper arm. Another man collected the costume, and as the three quietly left the courtroom, the judge turned back to Edgeworth. "While he's doing that, does the prosecution have other evidence or witnesses to present today?"

Edgeworth nodded. "Yes, Your Honor. I have a special witness today, but before that, I would like to call back to the stand the young man who first verified that Desmond Sycamore was Jean Descole... Luke Triton!"

"I guess we'd better brace ourselves," Maya murmured.

"It won't be too bad," Phoenix told her as Luke appeared, making his way to the witness stand. "I doubt Luke will add something we don't already know. Besides, I'm more concerned about the 'special witness' Edgeworth cooked up."

"Oh yeah...what is he thinking?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Welcome back, Mr. Triton," Edgeworth said. "By now, you are aware that you have been called back due to the unique position you found yourself in last year. Before, you mentioned traveling with Mr. Sycamore, is that correct?"

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth," Luke replied.

"Please testify about this trip you took with him."

"Professor Sycamore...contacted Professor Layton about an ancient discovery...a mysterious girl who would reveal the path to the secrets of the Azran. We traveled with him around the world in order to collect relics...which would lead us to the truth behind that discovery. But toward the end, once Professor Sycamore got what he wanted, he changed. To be honest, he is the last person I would have suspected was Descole. Descole was a cruel and calculating person, and sometimes had fits of rage. Professor Sycamore...was one of the kindest, gentlest individuals I had ever met. To this day, it baffles me."

Phoenix snuck a glance at Layton, and then turned back to Luke. _Yeah...I guess it would baffle me, too. Even I'm having a hard time believing a nice guy like him could be the one responsible for all this misery. I can't imagine bearing the brunt of his rage, the way Luke and the professor did..._

"So they were essentially two different personalities," Edgeworth said. "A Jekyll and Hyde, if you will."

Luke nodded. "Yes. Even I couldn't believe it at first, but it's true. He was able to switch that part of himself on and off, like a lamp."

"How did he reveal himself to you?"

"After we assembled a key from the relics, he tricked the girl into giving him the key. He gloated about it...and then transformed into that horrible man. He was, after all, a master of disguise."

_There it is_ , thought Phoenix, studying Edgeworth's reaction. _That look of satisfaction, as though Luke just handed him the key to this whole trial. Maybe I should look on the bright side...once Edgeworth unleashes whatever ammunition he's collecting here, then maybe..._ Suddenly it clicked. _Wait. Maybe that's it. He'll be attacking Mr. Sycamore's character by writing off his good qualities as something else...maybe residual effects of whatever acting he had to pull off while in disguise._ "Heh...heh heh..."

Unamused, Edgeworth coldly turned his gaze toward the defense. "Is something the matter, Mr. Wright? Is this trial running a little long for you?"

"Just the opposite," Phoenix said. "It's just...interesting to see what you're leading up to."

Edgeworth only showed a smirk. "Fine. Then as long as I have your attention..." He turned toward the witness' stand. "Mr. Triton, how many times did Mr. Sycamore make an attempt on your life, again?"

"Geez," Maya murmured as voices multiplied in the crowd around them. "How many times is the audience going to react in shock to everything he says?"

"No more than me," Phoenix said sheepishly. _I really need to stop tempting fate here..._

"At least once," came the soft response. "Maybe twice through the actions of another--"

"Whoa, whoa!" Phoenix shouted. "Objection!" _Please, Luke, just stop talking. NOW._ "Mr. Edgeworth, this testimony is to confirm the identity of the man in the costume, not to repeat a list of my client's crimes!"

Edgeworth chuckled in response. "My apologies. I just thought that, since you were enjoying yourself, you might appreciate a preview of things to come. That said...Your Honor, I withdraw my previous question."

"Hmph..." The judge shook his head. "I'm not sure I care for your tactics, Mr. Edgeworth. Now, please continue."

"Witness," said Edgeworth, "when Mr. Sycamore revealed himself, was he wearing the same costume from Misthallery?"

Luke nodded. "Yes."

"Can you verify the costume presented today is that costume?"

"Yes, Mr. Edgeworth. Without a doubt, it is the same costume."

"I see." Edgeworth looked over at Phoenix. "Well then, Mr. Wright, I believe you have a cross-examination to do."

_Not exactly sure what is there left to say, after that crap Edgeworth pulled._ "Mr. Triton," Phoenix started, "could you go into more detail about Mr. Sycamore's behavior during the trip you took?"

"All right," said Luke. "He really was a nice gentleman, someone who could rival even Professor Layton. Professor Sycamore was always so giving, helpful, encouraging, and he was so considerate of the rest of us. Whenever one of us was sad or struggling, he would say something uplifting. He was a truly compassionate individual, which is...which is why I couldn't understand why he could do those terrible things."

"I wonder if it was really a surprise, though."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Wright?"

"That is...were there no signs? Over the course of a year, did his moods change drastically?"

"Well..." Luke started. "...usually, he was calm, but he would grow flustered if someone teased him too much. Also, whenever he was in the presence of Targent agents, his temper would flare."

_Targent...so that term rears its ugly head again._ "So he got angry whenever he saw these Targent agents..." said Phoenix. "Would you be able to enlighten us as to why? Could you tell the court what Targent is?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wright, but you and I both know only Professor Sycamore can answer that first question properly. As for Targent, they were a cult-like organization focused on attaining the secrets of the Azran."

"The Azran...the same civilization that Professor Sycamore specialized in?"

Luke nodded. "Yes."

"In other words," Edgeworth cut in, "the defendant resented his competition. Seeing them reminded him of his goal to discover the secrets of the Azran, and he couldn't bear the thought of someone else achieving that fame."

Almost instinctively, Phoenix jumped in with an objection. "Mr. Edgeworth, there is no proof that my client's objective was fame!"

"Oh? Then tell me, Mr. Wright, what _was_ his objective, if not fame? If you know, then I suggest you find evidence to the contrary...and swiftly."

"Rrrrrrrggghh..." _He knows exactly what Mr. Sycamore's objective was...somehow, he knows._ Phoenix did his best to reel in his frustration as he turned back to the witness stand. "...Anyway, Luke...er, Mr. Triton...you described Descole as sometimes having fits of rage. Was Mr. Sycamore's anger comparable in any way?"

"Hmm..." Luke thought a moment. "Now that you've said it like that, he was angriest around the leader of Targent. It was the type of rage that could have rivaled Descole's."

"Heh, heh, heh." Edgeworth looked unsurprisingly smug. "I thank you, Mr. Wright. You've saved me the trouble of definitively linking your client to this masked man."

Phoenix snorted. "Please. You think I'm doing _your_ work? Only two things will definitively link the two... that costume, and my client's behavior while he wears it. The only thing I'm doing is showing that my client is human, a man who experiences a wide range of human emotions...unlike someone I know."

"And what is that supposed to mean?!"

"It means I have a case to present, and I'm not interested in half-truths. Maybe the prosecution wants to believe only a monster could have committed these crimes, because it would be sooo simple, wouldn't it? Mr. Sycamore _must_ be a wolf in sheep's skin...that's what you would have the court believe."

"You wound me, Mr. Wright," Edgeworth said, though his smirk suggested just the opposite. "And you know me better than that, so dispense with the act. I'm not interested in half-truths, either. If you have anything else to ask the witness, I suggest you do it now, before I'm out of patience."

"Fine," said Phoenix, then turned back to the witness. "Mr. Triton, what happened after my client stole this key you spoke of?"

"He escaped to the site where we met the Azran girl," Luke replied. "The Azran Sanctuary--that was where everything I knew about Descole would be thrown into a new light."

"What do you mean?"

"An unfortunate set of circumstances...err..." Luke's testimony was briefly interrupted by a sad expression. "Sorry. The group became separated, and the professor and I found ourselves working with Descole to get around the Sanctuary. But then...um..." He trailed off.

"It's all right, Luke. Just tell the court what happened."

Luke nodded. "Yes, Mr. Wright. We had to solve several puzzles to get to the next area. Descole solved a dangerous puzzle in particular...so dangerous, in fact, that one of the Sanctuary's guardians attempted to blast me with a burning beam. That's when...that's when Descole...he leapt in front of me and shielded me from the attack. As a result, he almost died."

_There we go,_ Phoenix thought, but was careful to not let his feelings of satisfaction show. "And what happened after that?"

"We had to leave him behind due to a more urgent matter, but by some miracle, he found the strength to catch up with us. The leader of Targent had made it to end of the Sanctuary, and unleashed a horrible thing on the people of this world. Descole...wished to help us stop it."

"The horrible thing," the judge repeated. "You aren't, by any chance, referring to the disaster in Froenborg, where an army of flying golems destroyed over half the town?"

"The very same," Luke confirmed. "Together, we managed to disable the golems."

"So not only did my client protect you in a dangerous situation, but he also helped save the townspeople from a very real threat?" asked Phoenix.

"Yes. It was a rather painful experience...for all of us--" Luke nearly choked on his words, his face becoming red. There were tears in his eyes. "Ooh. Forgive me. What I'm trying to say is...nothing about it was easy, and even Professor Sycamore...Descole...he knew it wouldn't be."

Phoenix recalled the conversation with Luke from the previous night. _He mentioned befriending that girl from the Sanctuary, and then losing her. That must have been hard on him._ "Thank you, Mr. Triton. I appreciate you coming up here to tell your story--" He was interrupted by sound of the double doors opening. In walked a man in full costume, flanked by two guards. As expected, the audience reacted with great surprise.

"Your Honor, it appears that the defendant has returned," Edgeworth said as 'Descole' was escorted to the defendant's chair. "At this time, I would like to ask the witness one more time: Was this the man responsible for the incidents at Misthallery, Ambrosia, and Monte d'Or? Did this man blackmail, kidnap, and impersonate other people? Is he the one who deceived you and Professor Layton during your travels?"

_Yeesh, don't go acknowledging any of the good things Luke just said about my client or anything,_ Phoenix thought, when Maya gave him a nudge.

"Nick," she whispered. "Have you seen the professor? He looks absolutely miserable."

Phoenix took a brief glance into the audience and nodded. "Yeah. Can't really blame him. He's this close to losing the brother that just walked back into his life after so many months...well, technically thirty years. It's got to be killing him."

"Yes," Luke replied after a pause. "This is the way he appeared at that time. This is Jean Descole, the scientist who plotted to unearth the three Azran sites...no matter the cost."

"Thank you, Mr. Triton," Edgeworth said, looking pleased. "That is all. You may step down now."

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said as Luke left the stand, "I appreciate all that you have done thus far in connecting the defendant to the culprit of those crimes. However, I confess I am unclear on what you intend to do to prove that the man currently in the costume is the same man present during those incidents."

"I'm glad you said so, Your Honor," Edgeworth replied, his smile only growing wider. "There is something the witness mentioned during his testimony that I will now verify."

"Really? And how will you do that?"

"By calling my next witness, the former leader of the organization known as Targent: Leon Bronev!"

"Leon...BRONEV?!" The name was a punch to Phoenix's stomach. "Oh, sh--"

"Shhh, Nick!" Maya scolded.

"I see!" said the judge. "Well, then, please call this witness."

An older man entered the courtroom in the following moments, with unruly, ashen hair, a beak-like nose, and a beard and mustache. Dressed in a prison uniform, he was escorted in by none other than Franziska von Karma.

_This must be the "favor" Edgeworth was talking about yesterday,_ Phoenix realized, nearly breaking into a sweat. _He knew all about Mr. Sycamore's past, about his connection to Bronev. He knew everything...including how Mr. Sycamore feels about the man who led the organization that killed his wife and child. This is gonna be a minefield..._

As Bronev took his place behind the stand, Franziska made her way to the gallery.

"Will the witness state his name and occupation?" Edgeworth asked.

"My name is Leon Bronev," said the man. "I am...in between occupations at the moment."

"You are currently serving out a sentence of your own, correct?"

Bronev nodded. "Yes. Unfortunately, my last occupation fell on the wrong side of the law more times than it did the right."

"Let it be known that the witness was arrested several months ago for his role as the leader of Targent."

"Ah yes, I recall," said the judge. "The organization dedicated to the discoveries of the Azran civilization. Imagine my horror when I learned they kidnapped archaeologists and sometimes maimed or killed those who resisted!"

Phoenix scanned the courtroom then; Bronev kept his gaze down, while Descole looked visibly agitated behind the mask. Even Layton appeared to be contemplating something.

"Indeed, Your Honor," said Edgeworth.

"But...what does that have to do with the case today?"

"I'm glad you asked, Your Honor. You see, not only was Mr. Bronev here a victim of Targent, but once he was on board with their plot, he attempted to make victims of his own sons--Hershel Layton, and of course, Desmond Sycamore."

"Wh-what?!" the judge exclaimed. "Then, this witness..."

Edgeworth nodded. "He is the biological father of both men."

Whispers erupted all over the audience.

"Witness," Edgeworth said, "you've no doubt told your story in your own trial, about the hellish years you were forced to endure while essentially a slave of Targent, how you lost your wife and children, and made the Azran secrets your sole purpose in life. While the court sympathizes, none of it excuses your behavior from that point forward."

Bronev nodded. "I understand."

"Now, regarding the defendant, you lost contact with him after you were abducted...when he was still a child. I would like for you to testify about the events that led to your meeting him as an adult, as well as your attempt to recruit him."

An audible scoff came from the direction of the defendant's chair.

_Yep, a minefield,_ Phoenix thought nervously.

"Yes," said Bronev. "I had been moving through the Targent ranks after my wife Rachel died, and it was a few years before I'd heard of a talented young scientist making headway with the mysteries of the Azran. No one could rival his translation skills. The name 'Desmond Sycamore' meant nothing to me, but the idea of uncovering Azran secrets with my own son was appealing. I reached out to him with an offer but was rebuffed."

"So you heard about Mr. Sycamore's talent as a translator," the judge commented. "Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

_Do I have to?_ Phoenix nearly asked, dread in the pit of his stomach. "Um..." His brow furrowed. "Yeah. Okay. Mr. Bronev. You, um..." _Come on, Phoenix, don't lose your nerve now!_ He cleared his throat. "Mr. Bronev, how exactly did you hear of my client's skill?"

"I had men all over the place, operating as my eyes and ears," Bronev replied. "If anything related to the Azran appeared in conversation anywhere, I knew about it."

"What did you mean when you said the name 'Desmond Sycamore' meant nothing to you?"

"He could have taken a thousand names, worn a thousand masks, but in my mind, he will always be Hershel Bronev."

"Hershel Bronev?" repeated the judge, confused. "You mean, he was Hershel, too?"

"No," said Bronev. "He was Hershel first. It would seem that when my children were adopted, Hershel did what he could to ensure his younger brother Theodore was adopted first. Evidently, Hershel was the child that the Laytons wished to adopt, and so, Theodore took his brother's name."

While the audience was reacting, the judge blinked, struggling to grasp what had been revealed. "So, er, this means the boy named Hershel Bronev is actually Desmond Sycamore?"

"Yes. And Theodore Bronev grew up as Hershel Layton."

"I...oh..." The judge shook his head, looking dazed. "I don't know what to say to that."

"Yes, the two brothers underwent name changes as children," Edgeworth said. "But more importantly... Mr. Wright, I would choose my next question carefully, if I were you."

"There he goes again," Maya said with a groan.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a carefully placed mine...or ten," Phoenix told her. Unfortunately, sarcasm would not save him that day, nor would it produce the question he required to avoid turning the courtroom into the ruined landscape he feared... so to speak. "Mr. Bronev, you then reached out to my client...what made him reject what you had to say?"

Bronev sighed. "I suppose to the average person, it might have been the threat of physical harm. Of course, even without that, he was not terribly impressed with the idea of leaving his family to work for Targent."

"You...threatened harm to my client?"

"I did. We often made threats toward those who rejected offers to work for Targent. He was no exception."

_Geez, that's cold_ , though Phoenix. _I'm almost afraid to ask this next question, even though I have a pretty good idea of the answer._ "Mr. Bronev, what happened after Mr. Sycamore rejected the offer?"

"We...I..." For a moment, it seemed Bronev was having just as much difficulty in answering as Phoenix had in asking the question. "I could not let it go. It was a great insult, or so I thought at the time. To become an authority on the Azran civilization, but refuse to work with others toward a common goal... I found his rejection to be utterly selfish."

"What did you do then?"

Bronev's gaze traveled to the floor as he struggled to find words. "Well, that is...I...the truth..."

"Shall I _tell_ you what he did?" came the strained voice.

Its tone was enough to alarm Phoenix, who realized the question had come from the direction of the defendant's chair. _That can't be...he sounds like an entirely different person._

Bronev made a poor attempt at eye contact with the man in the costume. "Son..."

" _Don't_...call me that," Descole angrily spat. "After all, you lost the right to call yourself 'father' that day. We will _never_ be family, not after what you did."

"I understand. I am not proud of my actions--"

_"Proud?!"_ repeated Descole through gritted teeth. "Pride is something you refrain from expressing when you have put forth minimal effort, not when you have gone above and beyond in committing a most heinous crime. No, you should feel nothing but crippling shame for what you have done, you unrepentant, execrable, murderous bastard--"

"Order!" shouted the judge, finally interrupting. "Mr. Sycamore, it is not your turn to speak! Mr. Wright, do not just stand there in shock as your client takes over your cross-examination!"

"Oh, uh...yeah," Phoenix said, looking sheepish. _It's not like I meant to. Everything just got ugly real fast, and I have no idea how to defuse this..._

"I don't expect you to forgive me," Bronev continued calmly. "Every day, I wish I could take back what happened. I know what it's like to lose everything that matters to you. Despite this, I forced the same end on you. Regardless of my justifications, I caused you a lot of pain. And I understand that because of this, I am much to blame for what you have become."

The words did nothing to quell Descole's fury. "You...you understand _nothing_ ," he growled, moving to his feet. "Not of the life I've lived, not of the family you took away. _You don't know anything about me!_ " Letting loose with a rage-filled scream, he took off toward the witness' stand, collecting one of the swords along the way. Before he could reach Bronev, however, he was intercepted by none other than Hershel Layton, who stood before Bronev, wielding the other sword. The two instantly crossed blades, the clashing noise echoing throughout the courtroom.

"What the?!" Phoenix's jaw practically dropped to the floor. _Where the heck did he come from?!_

"Did...did the professor seriously just jump down from the balcony?" Maya asked, just as shocked.

"Desmond, no!" Layton shouted, pushing back against his brother.

"Out of my way, Layton!" Descole snarled. "He will pay for what he's done!"

"Yes, he will. But this is not the way!"

Descole grunted as he shoved Layton back, coming at him with a second swing, which was swiftly parried. The two eased into an energetic duel. "Do not interfere! The police, the courts, the entire judicial system, they allowed him to get away with murder for years!"

"Please listen!" Layton begged as Descole rained down on him with slash after slash, sending him on a backward path toward the defendant's chair. "He is no longer getting away with anything, as you say. He has already had his day in court!"

"That means nothing to me! He can rot in a cell until the end of time, and it still won't be enough!" He thrust his blade at Layton, who leapt back with an unfortunate result; as the sole of his shoe collided with the leg of the defendant's chair, Layton lost his balance and fell back into the seat. Despite this, he managed to counter Descole's next move in the nick of time.

As steel struck steel once more, Layton held his position, grunting. "Please, Desmond! You will accomplish nothing by doing this! Or do you want to add 'murder' to your list of crimes?"

"It doesn't matter at this point. When this trial concludes, I will have nothing left to live for. Nothing!" The blades separated and clashed again.

"That's not true," Layton told him. "What about me? What about Flora?"

The name was like a switch that caught Descole off guard, causing him to yield to Layton. He stumbled backward, his sword hand dropping to his side. Finally, he lowered himself to one knee, catching his breath. The sword followed, banging loudly as it hit the ground.

Up in the audience area, the commentary simply continued.

_"I don't believe what I'm seeing!"_

_"Why, he's stark raving bonkers..."_

_"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!"_

All the while, Edgeworth remained silent, watching the scene before him.

_Edgeworth,_ Phoenix thought. _Don't seriously tell me this is what you expected. That would be irresponsible, even for you..._

"M...my goodness!" exclaimed the judge, finally finding his voice. "I have never encountered such violence in this courtroom! Mr. Edgeworth, Mr. Wright, is this the sort of conduct you allow in your American courts?"

Phoenix only stood there, as annoyed as he was embarrassed. _I wouldn't quite say "allow" as much as I would say "be bullied into accepting."_ "Believe me, Your Honor, this doesn't make the list of worst things I've seen in a courtroom. Though in terms of violence, it might compare to some of the abuse I've been subjected to."

"Mr. Wright," Edgeworth immediately cut in. "This is no time for one of your jokes. Your Honor, I apologize and take full responsibility for what has happened here today. It was careless of me to leave the evidence unguarded, and I did not act as quickly as I should have. But trust me when I say we do not tolerate such behavior in our courts."

Phoenix merely gave him a disapproving look. _Liar!_

"Anyway, it appears that Mr. Sycamore no longer intends to threaten the witness. For the sake of his health, I believe someone should take him to the infirmary to ensure he has not aggravated any old wounds from the airship crash."

The judge nodded. "I agree."

As Sycamore was led out of the courtroom by another man in uniform, Layton brought both swords back to the table where the rest of the evidence was. Turning, he gave a nod to Phoenix and then to Bronev, and also left the room.

"Mr. Edgeworth," the judge said. "Before you brought out this witness, you stated you needed to verify something. What was that, exactly, and have you accomplished this?"

Edgeworth hesitated to respond, preceding his words with a tense vocal noise. "...Yes, Your Honor. The previous witness, Luke Triton, testified that the defendant could easily undergo a change in personality, when the right conditions were presented. One condition was being in the presence of the Targent leader, a man the defendant deeply despised."

The judge nodded. "Yes...yes, I see. It didn't take much to stir the man's ire when this witness testified."

"In addition, the other witnesses claimed that the defendant had a violent temper when he felt things weren't going his way, or more accurately, when he had become desperate or experienced a great loss of control."

"And that he did, as we all saw here today."

"Mr. Sycamore's behavior demonstrates the fury his victims experienced during the Azran plot. With this, I believe I have proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that Mr. Sycamore is in fact the scientist Jean Descole, and committed his crimes while in costume. A guilty verdict is in order, would you not agree?"

"Objection!" Phoenix shouted. "Mr. Edgeworth, I will not go down this road with you again! If you end the trial here, the truth behind this whole matter will be lost forever!"

Edgeworth calmly met Phoenix's glare. "Mr. Wright, if you have any reason to believe that the verdict should not be handed down now, then by all means, tell the court."

_Way to play dumb, Edgeworth,_ an exasperated Phoenix thought. "Mr. Edgeworth, haven't you noticed how packed the audience area has been these last few days?"

"I have. However, that isn't at all unusual when a criminal in a high profile case is being tried in court."

"But why should they care at all?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"It's clear that my client has done a lot of bad things, but why does anyone come to observe a court case, especially one like this?" asked Phoenix. "There is only one reason: closure."

Edgeworth gave an impatient sigh. "And? They will get it when the judge slams his gavel and concludes the trial."

Phoenix shook his head. "Wrong. Not everyone is satisfied with only a guilty verdict."

This caused Edgeworth to snicker. "Did you wish to add a creative form of punishment to your client's sentence, Mr. Wright?"

"No. I wish to present my client's side of things. I believe that everyone here deserves to know the truth. Only with that will they have closure. But there is only one way I can accomplish this."

"Then do enlighten us, Mr. Wright."

Phoenix cleared his throat and turned toward the judge. "Your Honor, after a brief recess, please allow me to call the next witness, the only one who can thoroughly explain my client's motive and, perhaps, help bring closure to his victims."

"And who might this witness be, Mr. Wright?" asked the judge.

"My client: Professor Desmond Sycamore himself!"


	8. A Heart's Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sycamore testifies.

"Geez," said Maya as she and Phoenix walked back to the lobby. Making a face, she gently tugged at the lobe of her ear, which was still ringing from previous moments. "I didn't think the audience would ever calm down."

"I'm not surprised," Phoenix told her. "I'm sure half of them want to hear what Mr. Sycamore has to say just so that they can condemn him further. Then again, considering how many of them are probably his victims, I really shouldn't be judging."

"Yeah..."

They opened the door to the two guards; also present in the room was Sycamore. Back in his regular suit, he appeared troubled about something.

"Oh, hey, that was quick," Maya said. "You feeling better, Mr. Sycamore?"

"I am, Ms. Fey," he replied, his soft tone a welcome contrast to Descole's harsh one. "Nothing broken or permanently damaged. I...I do apologize for my earlier conduct. It's just...the sight of that man alone...fills me with a blind rage...though I realize this is not an excuse. But on to a more important matter. I've just received a bit of upsetting news." He turned to the man next to Maya. "Tell me it isn't true, Mr. Wright."

Phoenix studied his client with a mix of disappointment and sympathy. _Guess I shouldn't be surprised at his reluctance to take the stand. This whole time, he's been way too eager about putting himself behind bars._ "If you're referring to the fact that I've requested you as the next witness, then I'm afraid it's true. I imagine that in the next few minutes, you'll be escorted to the prosecutor's lobby."

The man grew flustered. "Do not put me on that stand. Do anything besides that. I implore you."

Phoenix shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sycamore, but this time, I can't honor that request. I am a defense attorney, after all. My job is to defend you until the very end, even if that means getting you to defend yourself."

"There is no point in forcing me to testify," Sycamore insisted. "It will not change the outcome of this trial."

"Which outcome do you mean?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you talking about the actual outcome, or the one you've already played out in your mind? You know, the one where the judge slams his gavel and shouts 'Guilty!' before anyone catches on to the fact that maybe you're not some irredeemable monster?" As the query was met with silence, Phoenix said, "A good friend once told me that everyone deserves a proper defense, regardless of who they are or what they did. And I'm not asking you to lie or anything. I just want you to tell your side of the story. Until you do, none of us will be closer to the truth."

"M-Mr. Wright...I...I don't..."

"Look, I get it. I've taken the stand before, so I know the pressure. But here's the thing: it's not fair for you to make as much of a splash as you did and then leave everyone wondering why. Of course there are those who have already decided you deserve the maximum punishment. Fortunately, they're not sitting in the judge's seat. If it helps, you only have to tell your story to three parties: the judge, the prosecution, and the defense. Everyone else is just a spectator. But if you ask me, I think it would benefit everyone if you told your story. People can be quick to judge, but they also have the capacity to understand."

"I..." Sycamore stood there, taking in the words. His arms were down and crossed at the wrist; at one point, he had begun to fiddle with one of the cuffs of his jacket sleeve. "...I don't know."

"Well then, think about it this way. There are people in the audience today who got caught up in your schemes, and are here for the sake of closure. You keep pushing for jail time as though that would magically solve everything...but it won't. Guilty verdict or no, not everyone can move on until they've heard your reasons for what you did. It's not about whether or not they believe a word you say. I think you owe it to them to answer their questions. You don't get to punish yourself before the testimony has been given, and expect the rest of us to do the same. Please. If you won't do it for yourself, then at least do it for the sake of everyone whose lives you affected."

Sycamore had calmed down, but his expression remained somber. "Do you...really think they would be willing to listen...to someone such as myself?"

"Well, I'm sure some of them will be," Phoenix responded. "They might even make sense of whatever chain of events led to you becoming this 'Descole' character. And people know the world isn't black and white. Humans are complex. So why shouldn't their reasons be?"

"You truly are the most persistent barrister I've ever met, Mr. Wright. A bit stubborn, perhaps. But...you've given me hope." A warm smile finally emerged from the man, and he nodded. "All right. I shall take my place at the stand, and testify."

"Thank you, Mr. Sycamore. I'm glad to hear it." _Not so much that other part, though. Is that how people really see me?_ Hiding the fact that he was bothered, Phoenix took a look around the room. "By the way, has Professor Layton been by?"

"No, Mr. Wright. He briefly visited me in the infirmary, and then took off, saying he needed to tend to something important."

_That's unusual,_ thought Phoenix. _I would think he'd want to be here for his brother, at a critical part of the trial. Well, he must have a good reason..._

* * *

Half an hour later, the trial had reconvened. Bronev was gone, and in his place, a solemn Sycamore.

"Witness," Edgeworth addressed him, "Rather, the defendant. Please state your name and occupation for the court."

"Desmond Sycamore," the man replied. "Once an archaeologist, I, too, am in between occupations...at present."

"Mr. Sycamore, you admit to all the crimes with which you are charged?"

Sycamore nodded. "I do. I am guilty...of everything."

"Well, surprisingly, not everyone agrees on that point, or they don't find it necessary to hold you accountable for all that you've done," Edgeworth said. "The institutions that funded your research decided that since you ultimately did solve the final riddle of the Azran, they do not wish to retrieve any of the money, or even press charges. And of course, there was the matter of the city of Monte d'Or. This does not make you innocent -- far from it -- but as was stated during the first day of the trial, you will be able to escape some of the charges. But enough about that. You were brought out here for one reason only...to answer the question: Why? We know you schemed to find the Azran sites, and caused harm to many people as a result. What we _don't_ know are your reasons. _Why_ did you do this?  Why did you go after the Azran? And why did you involve and injure so many innocents along the way? You _will_ tell this court, and in great detail."

"No pressure there," Maya said dryly.

"The Azran...were a part of my life...since the very beginning," Sycamore said. "My father, an archaeologist, lived and breathed every finding, so completely devoted to their secrets. He wished for his children to share in his passion. It...wasn't long before Targent discovered his interest. That was when they took him and my mother away. That was when...they destroyed our family."

_I guess he's still having a hard time talking about his past,_ thought Phoenix. _Not that I can blame him..._

"So Targent targeted your family due to the interest in the Azran," said the judge. "Mr. Wright, you may cross-examine the witness."

_Here goes..._

"Mr. Sycamore," Phoenix started, "You said that learning about the Azran civilization was your father's passion. You were referring to Leon Bronev as he was back then, correct?"

Sycamore looked uncomfortable but managed to mask his disgust at the name. "Yes."

"And as far as wanting to share this interest with his children, do you have any clear memories of that?"

"Not of anything specific, although I recall the joy in his eyes whenever he spoke to us about something related to the Azran. He was...warm, somehow, and kind. Not that he wasn't at other times, but archaeology seemed to inspire goodness, especially where the Azran were concerned."

"The day that Targent came for your father...could you go into detail about that?"

As tense as Sycamore was being in the last few moments, he suddenly let go, resigned. "My mother thought it was just another knock upon the door. We all did. The moment she answered, several men barged in with weapons. My father immediately acted; he tried to shield all of us. My little brother held on to me while my mother tried to comfort us both. No matter how much my father begged and pleaded, the armed men refused to listen. Finally, they threatened harm to us, the children. It was only then my parents agreed to go with them."

"Despicable!" the judge said suddenly, outraged. "To threaten even children..."

_That goes without saying,_ Phoenix thought. "And what happened after your parents were taken? What happened to you?"

"My parents were taken to Targent headquarters, to a place called the Nest," Sycamore replied. "My mother died in captivity not long afterward, while my father..." Darkness clouded the man's eyes for a moment. "...well, you all know what he became. As for my brother and me, we were left alone until the time we were adopted."

"Earlier, Mr. Bronev said than you allowed your brother to take your place in the first adoption."

"Yes. Theodore was barely six years of age, and we could not be adopted at the same time. I was older and could handle being on my own for a little while."

"Putting your brother's needs ahead of yours, at that age, is to be commended," Phoenix said.

"I don't agree, Mr. Wright."

"Why is that?"

"From the outside, it may have appeared that I was sacrificing a better future for the sake of my brother," said Sycamore. "But truthfully, I needed to be alone for a while. There were tasks I needed to perform, and I could not afford any distractions."

"What were the tasks?" Phoenix asked.

"I needed to learn about the organization that took our parents from us...and get my revenge upon them. That extended to the accursed civilization of the Azran as well -- if not for their existence, I would still have my family."

"And this is where it began," Edgeworth commented. "That seed of hatred, nursed by years of bitterness...eventually blooming into a series of cruel and calculated schemes."

Sycamore briefly looked over at the prosecutor's bench but did not respond; instead, he slowly brought his gaze back down.

"Mr. Edgeworth," Phoenix said, "If it were really that simple, then my client would not have waited this long to carry out his plot!"

"What are you saying, Mr. Wright?" Edgeworth asked. "That you believe something served to delay your client's actions?"

"I'm saying that, for a long time, Mr. Sycamore lacked conviction. It was only until a specific event happened, that he knew he couldn't live for anything else."

"So your client lacked conviction in his plot?" Edgeworth said. "He knew from a young age that he wanted revenge. What could he suddenly find more important than that?"

"I'll let my client tell you all about that." He shared a quick glance with Sycamore, who gave him a nod.

"Very well, then," said Edgeworth. "Mr. Sycamore, the court will hear your reasons for suspending your plans for revenge."

"It started fifteen years ago," the man began. "I'd walked into a café one day, and saw a woman sitting at a table, teacup in one hand, an open book in the other. The book title caught my interest and I asked her if I could join her. She accepted. Her name was Anna...and she would become my wife in the years that followed."

"Ah, so you met someone and got married," the judge said. "I'm starting to see the picture. Mr. Wright, please proceed."

"Mr. Sycamore," Phoenix started, "When you first met your wife, how high a priority was the revenge plot?"

"Very high, Mr. Wright," Sycamore told him.

"Would you say that meeting Anna made you forget about the plot?"

"No. In fact, it was the opposite. I thought about the plot every day, but...at the same time, I wondered how it could fit into my life, now that I'd found another purpose. To get revenge seemed less important, and I realized I could fill my life with true happiness. This feeling grew stronger after the birth of my daughter, Mildred."

Hushed conversations sprang up all throughout the audience. _Seems like everyone else is getting the picture._ "So when you started a family of your own, was revenge still on your mind?"

"I'm not proud to say it...but yes, Mr. Wright," Sycamore replied. "I'd swore I would make Targent and the Azran pay for what they did to my birth family. Naturally, I felt guilty for looking backward while so many wonderful people were in my life. Ultimately, I decided to let go and focus on my future. I would only deal with Targent should they be foolish enough to approach me."

"And that is exactly what they did, according to the previous witness' testimony," said the judge. "I don't imagine there was anything pleasant about that encounter, but the court must hear those events as they happened from the defendant's side. Mr. Sycamore, you will tell us what happened that day."

Sycamore balked, some angry force stirring within him. "I...they..." He closed his mouth, looking as though he were fighting the urge to say something potentially scandalous.

_"Murderers," perhaps?_ Phoenix wondered. "It's okay, Mr. Sycamore. You can tell it just to me if you want."

That seemed to calm the man's mood. "They approached me while I was doing some research. That was about...ten years ago? Imagine my shock to see the leader of Targent with them...and to find out it had been my father all along! They had discovered some ancient stone tablets, and wanted me to decipher the text for them...permanently. Even if I hadn't been disgusted with what my father had become, I would have refused. I knew what they did to archaeologists unfortunate enough to be in their 'service.'"

"Witness," Edgeworth said. "I beg your pardon, but could I get clarification on one thing? Where exactly were you when Targent approached you?"

"They were waiting for me in my office after hours," Sycamore replied. "I admit it was careless of me to have left it unlocked...not that this would have deterred them."

"So that leaves no witnesses," said the judge."That is...unfortunate."

"Mr. Sycamore, how were the Targent agents when you saw them?" asked Phoenix.

"They certainly did what they could in the hopes of intimidating me," Sycamore told him. "They brought along guns, and they were just as smug as they were aggressive. They threatened my life, but I still refused."

"Even after having your life threatened?!" the judge exclaimed. "I admire your courage and your ability to keep a clear head, but why?"

"My life...my purpose...these had changed within a few short years. If I lost my life, then I had already made peace with that...but I would protect what was most precious to me. If I could do that with my death, then it would have been worth it."

"'What was most precious,'" Phoenix repeated. "I assume you are referring to your wife and daughter?"

"Yes, Mr. Wright," the man replied.

"What happened after you refused Targent?"

"They told me I would rue my decision...and then left. Of course, that was not the end of it, nor did I expect it to be. However...I underestimated just how underhanded they could be, and...I overestimated the amount of mercy my birth father would show me."

_Maybe it's just me,_ Phoenix thought, _but Mr. Sycamore suddenly seems detached for a guy recounting some seriously traumatic events. Then again, I'm sure he knows it's only going to get uglier from here. I don't envy his position._ He looked over at the judge. "Your Honor."

The judge nodded in understanding. "Mr. Sycamore, please describe the aftermath of this confrontation."

"Unbeknownst to me, Targent broke into my home one day and planted explosives. They were to be detonated when I returned from work. It was a message, punishment for refusing them. But, as fate would have it..." Sycamore stopped without a warning.

"Mr. Sycamore?" Phoenix asked.

"...they weren't supposed to be there," the man continued. "The leisurely trip my wife and daughter took, accompanied by my butler Raymond, should have lasted three days. Unexpectedly, they returned home early. As a result...I was not the one caught up in the explosion. Those Targent scum...destroyed my family...once again."

"I..." The judge blinked, horrified by the testimony. "I can't even imagine. Mr. Wright, please proceed."

Phoenix let out a sigh. _Once again, I'm here, playing the role of the bad guy who rips apart witnesses' stories to allow the truth to emerge whole. But this time, it feels like I'm about to rip apart my own client, a man who has kept the truth to himself all these years._ "Um, Mr. Sycamore, where were you when your family came home?"

"I was in the city, taking care of some personal business."

"What happened when you returned home?"

"I found myself facing a house being consumed by flames. The only thing to penetrate the sound of the roaring fire were the screams...of my wife and daughter. The windows had been sealed shut, so they couldn't escape. I broke in, but it was too late."

"Oh my god," Maya whispered, placing a hand over her mouth. “So that's how it happened...”

"So, your wife and daughter perished that night," said Phoenix.

"That is correct," Sycamore said, his response stripped of all emotion.

"S...such evil!" exclaimed the judge. "But...planting explosives, taking lives in the process...surely Targent did not get away with these atrocities!"

"And why do you say that, Your Honor?"

The question left the elder man speechless, at first. "Do you mean to say there were no arrests?!"

"Why would there be?" The calmness in Sycamore's tone was unsettling. "There wasn't enough evidence. Yes, the windows had been tampered with, but the explosives couldn't be traced. Who would they arrest? Targent itself didn't catch the interest of the Yard until recently."

"Are you saying you didn't tell them anything?"

"I gave them my statement. Somehow, having your home blown up by a cult organization sounds less credible in person."

"So you weren't believed," said Phoenix.

"No. And because I wasn't believed, nothing was done. I grew frustrated...and that's when I decided...I needed to commit to the idea of revenge. Because this time, I knew they would continue. I knew they would do the same to someone else."

_Finally..._ Phoenix then stopped, noticing that Edgeworth had been quiet for a while, and looked deep in thought.

"So, this is the motive," Edgeworth said, as if to answer Phoenix's unspoken question. "A man loses his family to, as he puts it, a cult organization, so he suddenly sees it as his right to not only get revenge on those who injured him, but to also injure unrelated persons along the way."

"It's not that I saw it as my right," Sycamore replied. "At that point, I simply didn't care who I hurt. I was, after all, a husk."

"Hmm...yet it should have occurred to you that you were only repeating what had been done to you, which would have made you no better than the ones who took away your family."

Sycamore gave a mirthless laugh. "I...cannot argue against that, I suppose. As I said, it didn't matter to me. With the deaths of my wife and daughter, the man named Desmond Sycamore ceased to exist. I have no defense for the way I acted. I don't blame anyone for thinking I was heartless, because as Jean Descole, I could be nothing else."

"Even so, it seems a rather extreme reaction."

"Mr. Edgeworth, have you ever lost someone dear to you?"

"I..." The question caught the man by surprise. "...yes, I have. Seventeen years ago, in fact."

"Then you know the crippling pain and grief that comes with loss. Judging by your age, you must have been very young when that happened. You bore your loss because children are resilient, but that does not diminish what you experienced. It was similar for me, but I also knew the malice that brought about my loss, and I refused to stand by while evil prevailed. It was only after I met my wife that I started to question that, that perhaps I didn't have to live for revenge, and...just perhaps, I also deserved happiness. I...paid a price for believing that. The family Anna and I had created for ourselves...destroyed in a matter of moments. That's when I'd lost all hope of achieving happiness...of ever connecting with anyone else."

"With all due respect, Mr. Sycamore," Phoenix suddenly said. "I don't believe that."

Sycamore was caught off guard. "Wh-what? What do you mean?"

"I think that, even as your alter ego, you were reaching out to people in your own way. You had this...habit of seeking out those who experienced losses of their own, and connecting with them. For example, Mr. Oswald Whistler--"

"That is nonsense, Mr. Wright," scolded Edgeworth. "Not to mention irrelevant to Mr. Sycamore's motive."

"Is it?! Think back to yesterday, when Mr. Whistler was testifying. Mr. Whistler, a man who was desperately trying to bring back his daughter. Whistler, who was approached by my client, a man who had his own daughter taken from him years before. A man who offered to build a machine that could bring Whistler's daughter back to life, if only through a memory. Do you think that was simply a coincidence?"

"W-well, I..." Not having expected the argument, Edgeworth could only stumble over his words. "...that is..."

"Maybe it was a long shot, but he went along with it anyway. True, he had his own agenda, but why carry it out in such an unusual manner? By building the Detragan for Whistler, my client was keeping the dream alive...for the both of them. It was too late for my client, but if he could help someone else be reunited with his child..."

Edgeworth finally recovered, shaking his head. "That's quite the tale, Mr. Wright, but even if any of that were true--"

"I couldn't help myself," Sycamore interrupted. "Perhaps it was a form of vicarious living. I knew my daughter was gone forever, but every time I saw Mr. Whistler with that little girl, calling her 'Melina'...something about that felt right to me. Call me selfish, or delusional, but no one should have to lose a family member...especially an only child."

"Mr. Sycamore, you realize two terrified parents temporarily lost their own child because of the foolishness of your plot? Not to mention the parents of the other girls you and Mr. Whistler abducted?"

Sycamore brought his gaze down. "You're right. No matter what happened, someone experienced a loss. I knew the 'reunion' would only be temporary for Mr. Whistler, but I went along with it anyway. The fact that life isn't fair...didn't stop me."

"So you say."

"What is it you wish for me to tell you, Mr. Edgeworth?" the man asked, his tone finally shifting to one of exasperation. "Do you want to hear something to the contrary? I make no excuses for my behavior. I'm sorry for what I've done, and I deeply regret my actions. From the kidnapping to the blackmailing, to the violent assaults I've inflicted, to the deception and the manipulation...I've caused so much pain and hurt to others, and I can never erase that. So if you want to call for a guilty verdict, then do it now. It doesn't matter to me either way."

"Objection!" shouted Phoenix. "Mr. Sycamore, I understand you're eager to end the trial, but a verdict at this point would be premature."

"Hmm..." Edgeworth looked to be contemplating something. "For once, the prosecution is in agreement with the defense. Mr. Sycamore, whether you realize it or not...you have yet to tell the absolute truth."

Sycamore was stunned by the sudden alliance. "What...what more is there to be said? You wanted my motive, and I gave it to you..."

"Yes, we know of your motive, which you explained to us matter-of-factly. But doesn't that strike you as odd? You were the one who suffered multiple losses, spoke of 'losing hope' and 'crippling pain,' and your own lawyer described you as someone who couldn't live for anything besides revenge. Yet you revealed your experiences the way one delivers a mildly interesting story about some individual to whom he has no connection." A brief silence followed. "Mr. Sycamore, again we ask...why were you driven to such reckless methods in this revenge plot? Didn't you have anyone to talk you out of doing this?"

"...No."

"No one at all?" Phoenix asked. "A grief counselor, a friend?"

"I spoke to a professional, but he seemed to think my talk of Targent was a delusion and a product of my grief, instead of the cause. Not the most insightful or empathetic man. I stopped seeing him immediately. I suppose I could have spoken to another, but I was...spent. And I didn't trust others aside from my butler Raymond, but he would not have stopped me."

"Still...nothing else to keep you holding on?" Phoenix pressed. "Did you ever think of your wife and daughter outside of revenge? Didn't you have any good memories to hold on to?"

Sycamore's demeanor changed then. "Memories...?" he repeated. "Why, Mr. Wright, I could recall a hundred memories with my family, easily...so many wonderful memories. I treasured them all. It was truly a blissful time in my life."

_Hmm...if I could get him to open up..._ "That's good to hear, Mr. Sycamore," said Phoenix, giving the man a small but reassuring smile. "So when you look back, you recall a lot of good moments?"

"Oh, yes." Sycamore's face lit up then, genuine warmth in his eyes. "I'll always remember the first time I laid eyes on Anna, and our conversations over tea. The productions we attended, the books we read--did you know that she once stood in a queue for eight hours, just so that I could have an autographed copy of Douglas Rose Sorensen's latest novel? On a cold, rainy day, no less. Extraordinary woman, she was. As a result, I read to her in bed after she caught a terrible cold. She feared not being well enough to visit family that weekend. You see, Sunday nights we dined with her father, months before he passed. The man was always in good spirits, despite his diagnosis. I truly enjoyed his company...and learned much from him." A smile formed on his face, the further he delved into the memories. "I recall the weeks I'd spent planning a proposal, only for Anna to propose instead. The day we married...how I every time held her, I feared I would awaken at any moment, for surely, this happiness was a dream." He sighed wistfully. "Our first home, we'd made the mistake of attempting to renovate the kitchen. Ah! A constant source of worry, the value of that house. Fortunately, Anna was acquainted with someone who restored the room as much as possible. When she told me I was going to be a father...many nights I feared I was incapable, or unworthy...but when Millie -- Mildred -- was born, I was filled with an undeniable strength, as though I could take on anything."

It wasn't Phoenix's intention, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the audience, whose eyes were trained on Sycamore. Several members seemed as invested in Sycamore's story as he was in sharing it.  _If the audience can be won over, or at least be convinced he's not evil, maybe the judge can show him some mercy as well. Though it doesn't really work that way..._

"Millie...my sweet precious girl...she was always drawing, or telling stories...when she wasn't getting into something else. Hahaha. Her favorite film – _A Heart's Treasure_ – I was to give her a copy that Christmas. It was a secret, of course...one that my butler Raymond had faithfully guarded. Raymond...he did so much for our family. I remember our last holiday together – we'd gone to the beach. It was too cold to go into the water on that last day, but Millie insisted on getting her feet wet." Sycamore seemed to finally relax then, immersing himself in the memory. "What a lovely afternoon that was – the picnic, the walk on the shore. Raymond took so many photographs. I had to beg him to take at least one with him in it." The man chuckled. "The man had a mischievous side to him, I'm afraid – I was lying down on the picnic blanket beside Anna, and Raymond had snapped a photo just as I had fallen asleep! At least, this was according to my dear wife. Later, I remember being awakened by little arms around my neck, whispers of 'Daddy, Daddy' in my ear. Millie was ready to go home, as were we all. I never slept as well as I did that night..." And just like that, the light in his expression dissipated. "I don't think I did...ever again."

_I wonder if I should ask him-- no_ , thought Phoenix.  _Just let him tell his story._

"Raymond...never did get around to developing those photographs," Sycamore continued, looking more despondent. "It wasn't his fault. The film was one of the many things destroyed in the fire. All the other pictures were lost as well. I don't...I don't have a single photo of my wife, or of my daughter." The moment was inappropriate, but he had forced a smile. There was a vulnerability to it, and in the next instant, he ceased eye contact with all, his gaze drifting toward the floor. "The only things I have to remember them by...are a handful of items left in the car by chance...and my memories. And even those...I don't always trust." His eyes were filling with tears, his facial features twisting into a miserable shell. "It should have been me," he said, a creak in his voice. "I should have died in that fire that day, not them. They had nothing to do with it. All they did was come home early. That's not a crime. They died...because...like a damn fool, I underestimated Targent. I-I couldn't bear it, knowing I simply allowed it to happen. And so...I killed off Desmond Sycamore too..."

"So you felt guilty about your family dying in your place?" asked Edgeworth. "Was that truly enough to drive you to devise these elaborate plots?"

"Yes," Sycamore whispered, the tears sliding down his face. "I'd lost family once before. But this time...it was...it was even worse this time."

"How so?"

"I...” The man lowered his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “I can feel it...this...constant, gaping hole in my heart..." He brought a hand to the middle of his chest as if to demonstrate. "The pain...the longing. The regrets. They linger...no matter what I do. Ten years. It's been _ten...years_...yet I can't move _on_. I was building a life... _we_ were building a life together..." More tears trailed down his cheeks as he trembled. "In an instant, it was gone--" The lenses of his glasses started to fog up, and he took them off, wiping away tears on the sleeve of his jacket before returning the frames to his face. "Their bodies were badly burned, too, so I couldn't even see them one last time. Anna would have wanted me to save Millie, yet I failed to do even that..." He sniffled and kept his eyes down, his face having become noticeably red. "Losing a parent...that was painful enough, but to lose a child...how does one even begin to mend? I didn't know what to do, so...I lashed out, and blamed others for the family I lost. But no matter how much I plotted, no matter how many masks I wore, I couldn't hide...from the fact that I had...I had let-- them-- die--" His chest began to heave, his own words strangling him. Fresh tears appeared as he looked on in despair. "I asked myself...time and time again...why? Why didn't I move them after Targent threatened me? Why didn't I return home earlier? Why didn't I just...say...yes...to Targent? With my refusal, I sealed their fates. Anna, the woman to whom I promised forever. Five years...that was all I could give. I still remember how she smiled at me when I spoke of my studies. She could not have cared less about archaeology, but I always had her support. She was so gracious, so patient and understanding...and she always made the best of any situation. I still recall her embrace when we last parted...how her face felt in these hands, her lips pressed against mine. How her perfume lingered hours later. Even now, when I wake at night, I turn, expecting to see her at my side. And Millie...I'll...always...remember...those little footprints on the beach, her little hand in mine. How every sign of wildlife that day was new and wondrous to her. I...I always looked forward...to her telling me about her day. Those moments grew rare...as I worked longer and longer hours." Sycamore sounded exhausted at this point, drained of the strength it took to hide just how broken he truly was. "Still, I always made time...to listen, to hear about her dreams. She had so many dreams. She dreamt of becoming a world famous painter, or a costume designer for masquerade balls. But mostly...she dreamt of embarking on adventures with friends, just as the girl from her favorite film had done. She would have traveled to other lands...when she was older. But now...she will never grow up in this world..." With that, Sycamore brought a hand to his face and quietly wept.

“Poor Mr. Sycamore...” Maya murmured, the expression of sympathy nearly lost in the wave of whispers coming from the audience.

When the noise had subsided, Edgeworth spoke, firmly but softly. "Thank you, Mr. Sycamore, for sharing the truth with us today. I realize this has been most difficult for you."

"Oh..." The judge cautiously turned to the defense. "Mr. Wright? Er, do you...have anything else to ask your client?"

"Uh...w-well..." Phoenix looked back and forth between Sycamore and the judge. "Your Honor," he finally said. "I would like to request a twenty minute recess to allow my client to compose himself."

"Y-yes," the judge responded. "I believe that would be best. Let us reconvene in twenty minutes. Mr. Sycamore...no one can change the past, but I hope you will find some peace and comfort in this time."


	9. Death's Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judgment comes for Sycamore.

The lobby was quiet, except for the occasional stifling of a sob as Sycamore came down from the episode. Maya stood next to the man with her hand upon his shoulder, offering him a look of sympathy.

Phoenix shared in that feeling, though it was joined with a bit of doubt...or guilt. _I wonder if I went too far this time..._

"I'm...I'm sorry...that you had to see that," Sycamore said as he sniffled, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. "Not just you two...but everyone, as well. I should not...have lost my composure...not like that."

"Don't worry about it," Phoenix told him. "I'm the one who should apologize. I think...I pushed too hard on the issue of your motive. But if one thing is clear from your testimony, it's that you were in a great deal of pain when you first assumed the guise of Jean Descole. Even now, you're still in pain...but I think a lot of people understood your reasons for the plot. Obviously, it doesn't excuse what you did, but at least the ones in the audience can walk away with that much."

"I wonder how much of a comfort that is, after all that I've done..." Sycamore put his glasses back on and folded the handkerchief, stuffing into his front pocket.

"Huh?" Phoenix looked over Sycamore's shoulder to see the lobby doors opening, a young girl entering. Wearing a salmon-colored dress and dark boots, she had striking eyes, and brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her expression was that of a much older person's, someone who carried a great burden upon her shoulders. "Hello there, miss. Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?"

"Professor..."

Maya moved away from Sycamore, and the two turned around to face the owner of the voice. Sycamore reacted with great surprise. "Flora?! Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you'd decided...you would have nothing to do with me."

"Please, there's no need for that," Layton's voice called out, and a moment later, the man appeared behind the girl named Flora. "It was I who brought her, but it was entirely her decision."

Sycamore's eyes traveled from the other professor to Flora. "Is...is this true?"

The girl nodded, stepping forward to make room for Layton. "I rang the office earlier, hoping that Professor Layton would be there. He wasn't, but Dean Delmona happened to be leaving a memo for the professor at the time. He was so nice...I explained what was going on, so he made a few calls while I completed my exams. I had this feeling...I needed to be here. I realized...I wasn't being fair to you. I know people have things in their pasts they aren't proud of...but you...you're at least trying to make things right. So...I had to come here. I had to see what you would do..."

"Incidentally, we were present during that last testimony," Layton said, closing the door. "I must say, Desmond, that took a great deal of courage to reveal what you did. Are you all right?"

"Oh. Y-yes. I've calmed down some."

"Professor Sycamore." Flora had spoken the name, but her gaze was directed at the floor. "That horrible thing that happened to your wife and daughter...it wasn't an accident after all, was it? And all because that awful Targent took them from you..."

"Flora."

The girl looked up as Sycamore approached her.

"Listen to me. No matter what I've been through, it doesn't excuse my behavior. There are people who could have easily lost their lives because of me--"

Flora's stoic expression finally broke. "I know!" she shouted, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I know you did some terrible things! I know that! But it doesn't mean you're a bad person. Sometimes...sometimes people do things they would never do in a million years when they feel like they've lost everything, or everyone. But if the judge doesn't understand that, then...then..." She ran to Sycamore, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want you to go, Professor! It's not fair!"

Sycamore let out a sigh, and held the girl as she wept. "Flora...I'm sorry. But this is something I absolutely need to do. It isn't right for me to have done all of those things and never to have faced the consequences. You know this. I won't lie to you about the outcome of this trial. I've confessed my guilt, after all. I've been running away for so long, but I won't run away from whatever punishment awaits me." Moving his hands to her shoulders, he created some space between them. He then brought one hand beneath the girl's chin and gently lifted it, prompting her to look up at him. "Listen, Flora. I want nothing more than to return home with you and the professor. But I know I can't do that for as long as my crimes continue to haunt me. I want to start over with a clean slate. Please...I know this is a lot to take in, but I hope one day you'll understand. You deserve those who bring light to your life. I am not capable of that at this moment, but...thanks to everyone, I believe I will be in time. And while I cannot tell you what to do with your life, I hope...you'll be there when I return."

Flora pulled back further, staring at him with an expression that seemed to say _I miss you already_. "I...I understand. I've been trying new things, Professor, just like you said. I want to be able to show you the progress I've made."

Sycamore wiped away a tear from under the girl's eye, showing her an encouraging smile. "You will, Flora. I look forward to it."

"Professor Layton," Phoenix could hear Maya softly saying. "Could I ask you a favor?"

"Oh..." Layton, who had been watching the scene before him, turned around to the young woman. "Of course, Ms. Fey."

"Is there a library around here, or a records room of some sort?"

 _What on earth is she up to?_ Phoenix wondered, but before he could ask, the door opened again.

"The trial will reconvene shortly. Please take your places now."

"Nick, will you be okay without me?" asked Maya.

"Sure," said Phoenix. "But...what's up?"

"I need to go check on something. Professor Layton is going with me. We'll be back soon."

"Oh...okay. See you later, then."

* * *

Phoenix was scanning a document when heard shuffling and other sounds. He looked up into the audience, watching as everyone returned to their seats. He could see the girl named Flora sitting next to Luke and his parents. In the row before them was the girl named Arianna, who was with a younger boy, and an older woman. They all bore serious expressions, though for different reasons.

"The court is now in session for the trial of Desmond Sycamore," said the judge. "Are you feeling better now, Mr. Sycamore?"

"Oh, yes,Your Honor," said Sycamore with a smile, his face red for a different reason now. "I apologize for what happened earlier. The memories came all at once...I think I was overwhelmed."

"One could hardly blame you, Mr. Sycamore, given the tragedies you endured. Still, this trial must go on. Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Edgeworth said. "Mr. Sycamore, from your testimony, we can conclude you were suffering from grief and loss at the time you took up the guise of Jean Descole and put your plot into motion. None of this is sufficient proof to make a case of temporary insanity, but you knew that going into this trial."

 _It's not like he made a case to begin with,_ t hought Phoenix.

"And regarding your motive, you previously claimed revenge for your lost families, but earlier you revealed something else – a profound sense of guilt, perhaps even shame. You appear to blame yourself for something that Targent did, simply because you refused to be bullied by them. You even went as far as shedding your name and identity as a way to escape this blame. But the act was Targent's, and Targent's alone. They can justify retaliation all they wish, but it does not put the responsibility of their actions on you. You are not at fault for what happened to your wife and daughter."

Sycamore lowered his gaze. "...I understand."

"Then you also understand that nothing you suffered justifies any of the suffering you brought upon anyone else."

"I do."

"In that case...there is one final thing," Edgeworth said. "I confess I have been curious about how your plot, in its form from that point forward, came together. Why you decided to carry it out while in disguise -- a most unusual one, at that."

"After...after I'd lost my wife and daughter...and my faith in the system...revenge became my sole purpose in life, as everyone knows. I needed to attain this goal by any means necessary, so I began to research as much as I could, about both Targent and the Azran. I did what I could to stay many steps ahead of Targent... at least, until the Azran ruins at Monte d'Or were revealed."

"And the disguise?"

"That was..." The flush returned to Sycamore's face. "...you might say...a manifestation of my guilt, as well as my despair. The world did not need to know how I'd failed to protect my family. But also, it was easier to move around without Targent following Desmond Sycamore's every move. And...that also made it easier to escape the consequences of breaking multiple laws."

"I see," said Edgeworth, looking over at the defense. "Mr. Wright, if you would..."

Phoenix nodded, and set down the document he was holding. "Mr. Sycamore, you say you needed to get revenge 'by any means necessary.' According to records, several institutions, including prestigious universities, funded your research on the Azran civilization. Would I be correct in assuming this funding is what allowed the incidents in Misthallery, Ambrosia, and Monte d'Or to take place?"

"That is a safe assumption, Mr. Wright," Sycamore replied. "I did earn money lecturing throughout the years, but the funding mostly enabled me to build the technology I required and to hire henchmen as well. There were additional sources along the way, of course."

"How exactly did you plot out the incidents at the three Azran sites?"

"Several years had passed before I'd made a breakthrough in my research. While translating Azran text was my specialty, even I could only read so much text in a day. Eventually, this led me to a site that, to my dismay, was located in the middle of a well-populated town."

"Misthallery."

"Yes. From there, I did what I could to research the town itself. The specter of legend -- I'd believed it to be nothing but a myth at first, so I went ahead with my plan to excavate in the streets. I knew I would not receive the approval of the mayor, so I secretly enlisted the help of the police chief with promises of riches, and of course...the engineer, by means of blackmail. Raymond, my butler, also assisted...in nearly every part of my plot as well."

"You forced the engineer to build machines for excavation," said Phoenix. "These excavations then took place at night, under cover of fog."

Sycamore nodded. "As I said, I had taken the specter to be a myth, but I was determined to use anything to my advantage. The story served me well...to a point. Unfortunately, the creature from the lake had realized what I was doing and did her best to stop me. After that...well, that has already been laid out in court."

 _Right..._ thought Phoenix. "Once you were fully defeated by Professor Layton and his friends, how did you happen upon the second Azran site?"

"That one was easier, due to the existence of relics, as well as partial copies of the Ambrosian crest. Based on legends, the city could only have been on an island. Since the markings of the crest represented musical notes, I required someone with a musician's talent...and so I sought out the famous opera composer, Oswald Whistler. The fact he had an ailing daughter... was pure coincidence. Still, I needed to provide some incentive for him to help me decipher the music. The Detragan originally was intended to play the music...and excavate if the need arose... but I added an extra feature to motivate Whistler."

"The means to extract his daughter's memories, preserve them for a while, and transit them to another person."

"That is correct."

The judge shook his head. "That...still boggles the mind...regardless of how many times I hear it."

To everyone's surprise, Sycamore chuckled. "Yes...I suppose it would. I am sorry. A part of me truly did relate to Whistler's situation, even as I attempted to use him in my plot. I don't claim to be correct in my actions, with the game or the kidnappings. Honestly...I don't know what I was thinking, aside from revenge."

"Regarding the kidnappings," Phoenix started, "at what point did they begin?"

"Shortly after Melina died. Whistler was inconsolable, and I thought this the perfect distraction and focus for him. We must have abducted a dozen girls before I finally resorted to the plan for the opera."

"That's...a lot of victims."

"True...but a mere fraction of the audience for the opera. Initially, I did not want to involve so many people, but after a while, I had no choice but to create the game. None of the girls were acceptable candidates to sing the Song of the Sea."

 _Hmm..._ As Phoenix searched for the next question to ask, a familiar presence returned—the young woman dressed in white and lavender. He could hear a soft rustling as Maya's hand placed a pair of newspaper clippings on top of the bench, deliberately pushing them into Phoenix's view. Unable to ignore the act, he looked down, noticing the title – _Blaze Claims Two Lives, Two Survive_. "Wait," he said, nearly inaudibly. "Is this...?"

"And what a game it was!" exclaimed the judge, breaking Phoenix's concentration. "Building a boat disguised as a theater, luring attendees with promises of eternal life...!"

This time, Edgeworth chuckled. "And here I thought no one was paying attention to details."

"One doesn't forget details such as those, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"As you say, Your Honor."

"I...am neither able to justify the magnitude of that plot, nor its level of deceit," Sycamore said. "But I was willing to get my revenge by any means necessary. This included building the Crown Petone and creating the game while Whistler composed the opera. And...of course...selling the tickets for the show. Many were willing to pay a high price for the chance at eternal life...and...I was willing to exploit that."

The judge shook his head. "What a terrible thing to do." Similar hushed opinions echoed around the gallery.

Phoenix finally brought his full attention back to the trial. "Speaking of the Crown Petone... according to Inspector Grosky, it was blown up at some point during the game. There were several hundred people in attendance, yet none of them were caught up in this explosion. Why is that?"

"It was always my plan to transport those who failed to solve the puzzles back to land," Sycamore explained. "After all, there was no need for so many to be on the island."

"How did you accomplish this?"

"The Crown Petone was equipped with two undersea vessels, one of which contained the people sent back to land, and the other, my henchmen and me. As for the ones who made it to the island via boat, I temporarily imprisoned them until the ruins rose."

"We heard from previous testimony that as you battled Professor Layton, you experienced a fall and were presumed dead. Since you are here now, I assume something saved you at that last moment."

Sycamore nodded. "My butler, Raymond...he did more than tidy up a household. He could operate multiple vehicles, including airships and airplanes. He was always one step ahead whenever my actions proved...rash. He was ready when I fell, and transported me back to safety. I took a few days to recover before the next stage: the ruins at Monte d'Or."

Edgeworth spoke up then. "As you all know, due to the wishes of one man who resides in the city, the charges that were mounting were dropped. But it is because of this that the court has yet to hear the story. Mr. Sycamore, there was more than just a desire to continue your plot, correct?"

"...Yes." Sycamore lowered his eyes; it was apparent the question had dredged up feelings of guilt. "Monte d'Or...though large in size, is a mere twenty years old. It was created for one reason...to find the young man who had disappeared in the area while exploring Azran ruins."

"A whole city owing its existence to a search for a missing person," said the judge. "Incredible...and touching, if I may say so."

Sycamore forced a smile, but it was clear he was still uncomfortable. "Y-yes, Your Honor. The truth is...I found him in the eighteenth year of his disappearance. After reading of the tragedy, and investigating the area, I correctly deduced that... after falling into the chasm, he washed up on the shores of a nearby village. It was clear he had lost his memory, and so..."

"And so...?"

The bespectacled man finally lifted his head, projecting his sights out into the audience, his expression filled with remorse. "I supplied more than enough details for him. However, I did not do so nobly. I needed to search for a relic and its corresponding mechanism, and I was looking for something to distract the people from my efforts. And so, I...I manipulated the man into playing a role that would hold the audience's attention. He, too, was motivated to do so by revenge, because of the lies I'd fed him."

The judge looked unsettled, his expression an accurate visual representation of the audience's murmurs. "You...took advantage of an amnesiac?"

"It's despicable, isn't it? Yet I found it easy to do so, because I myself was so focused on revenge that I had no room for remorse...at the time."

"What role, exactly, did you have this person play?" Edgeworth asked.

"It was a role known as the Masked Gentleman. Monte d'Or had no shortage of entertainment, but everyone was drawn to the 'dark miracles' of the Masked Gentleman. Horrifying feats of magic...or were they? Audience members turning into horses, paintings coming to life and terrorizing citizens and tourists alike, people being drawn into the sky and vanishing, or spontaneously bursting into flame..."

"Mr. Sycamore!" shouted the judge. "Please assure this old man that you did not cause people to burn to death, or...those other dreadful things!"

"No, no, no..." Sycamore insisted, now looking sheepish. "Of course not, Your Honor. These were all very convincing illusions, nothing more. Those in attendance marveled at them, and I am told that it took many months for the discussion to die down. Ha. Sometimes, I fear I have missed my calling as a special effects creator, or a theater producer..."

 _Really, Mr. Sycamore?_ Phoenix thought. _Now is not the time to be tooting your own horn..._

"The dark miracles weren't just a distraction, however. The man who established the city was in possession of the relic I sought...or so I believed. The dark miracles were a way of pressuring him to give it to me, which ultimately backfired as he never had the relic to begin with. Of course, no one was actually harmed...until the final dark miracle." Sycamore's expression quickly turned serious. "I had become desperate, my plot turning reckless at that point. I had kidnapped and was impersonating an important citizen, and I had convinced the one playing the Masked Gentleman to set off explosives that would cause the city to be engulfed in sand."

"Explosives?!" exclaimed the judge. "And what would possess you to do that?"

"It was an attempt to force Layton into helping me achieve my goal. I knew that once the city was in danger, he would act to help me at the specified location, and help produce the relic I needed. That time, I had been correct. When we activated the mechanism, the city itself rose, putting it out of harm's way."

"Hmph. Perhaps you did miss your calling. You appear to have a knack for theatrics."

"That he does," said Edgeworth. "Mr. Sycamore, I presume there was another function of this mechanism?"

Sycamore nodded. "It was to activate the Azran ruins there--the Nautilus Chamber. Recall that, as a condition for accessing the Azran Sanctuary, three important sites had to be activated."

"Yes, of course. What happened after that?"

"Layton exposed my plot, not surprisingly. I managed to flee, while the missing man returned to the ones seeking him. Unfortunately, the newly uncovered site fell into the hands of Targent, as did the others. It would be some time before I was able to proceed with the next phase and contact Layton and his friends."

"Who helped you seek the Azran keys," said Phoenix. "Being a master of disguise, it was only then you showed your true face...rather, as you appear now."

"Yes," said Sycamore. "I had hoped that enough time had passed so that Layton would not recognize me. Stepping back into the skin of someone I had previously declared dead was...surreal. It was not surprising how far more comfortable I was in my disguise."

"Speaking of your disguise...may I ask how that came together?"

"That is...pieces of the original costume were made from items owned by my wife and daughter. Even the ones not assembled from their possessions were inspired by them in some way. Perhaps...it was a way of having them with me, of having them bear witness to my plot. If I succeeded, they would know I had avenged them. If I failed...they would still be with me, in some way..."

While Sycamore was talking, Phoenix could see Maya reaching over and lightly patting the newspaper clippings. Phoenix was about to tell her he had already seen them when he realized she had been uncharacteristically silent since her return. _I think she even missed an opportunity or two for a quip._ That's when he remembered he had only seen one of the articles. _I guess she wants me to look at the other one...this must be what she asked Professor Layton to help her find._ He looked down and set aside the top clipping. _Let's see...there's some lady's picture...curly hair, blonde. She's pretty. Who is...?_ His mouth fell open slightly as he read the words. _Oh...! An obituary._ "Wow..." Phoenix whispered. "Sounds like Mrs. Sycamore was a pretty cool lady...though I'd gathered that much from Mr. Sycamore's testimony earlier."

Maya only offered a soft "hmph" in response. It might have been Phoenix's imagination, but she almost sounded amused.

"In retrospect, I merely tarnished their memory, instead," Sycamore continued, looking every bit as ashamed as he sounded. "Of all the things I could have done to honor them, I chose something so very stupid and thoughtless. Had I stopped for a moment, I would have remembered that revenge wasn't something either one of them was ever interested in." His gaze had drifted toward the floor once more, a single tear sliding down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. "When they were with me, I had finally found my peace...it's a pity I couldn't hold on to their memory in that sense. They...they would be horrified to know what role they played in my plot...and disgusted at what I had become..."

"That's not true, Desmond, and you know it. You have always thought well of others; will you not do the same for yourself now?"

The interjection was enough to grab Sycamore's attention and end the episode before it started. He was looking in the direction of the defense's bench, silent and dazed.

_Whoa,_ thought Phoenix, realizing the voice had come from the woman at his side.  _Either Maya's been perfecting her accents, or Mr. Sycamore's wife was on the petite side._ He finally turned to his right, confirming his suspicions. The woman standing there was different from the woman he was used to seeing. Her figure was slightly fuller than Maya's, and her face matched the picture from the obituary, though now framed by straight, black locks instead of golden curls.

"Why does anyone seek revenge?" the woman continued. "'A man who has lost everything charges toward the reason why. When he fails to find it, he cries to the heavens for the meaning in his suffering. When that, too, eludes him, he does not pardon the one who so injured him but instead demands recompense, for it is only in revenge that he...'"

"'...believes he will find salvation,'" Sycamore joined in. "'Though his loss is tragic, the true tragedy lies in the blindness of his wounded heart, which strives to commit any vile act, for as long as it remains beating.'" He finally showed a small smile. "Sorensen's  _The Brittle Blade_ . You remembered."

"I remember the man you were," she said. "I remember the man...you will always be."

"Desmond Sycamore, the complicated human being with complex emotions," Edgeworth cut in, turning toward the defense. "I believe this is the argument that the...defense wished to present? The prosecution concedes...on that point, at least."

"I imagine it would take such a person to devise the plot that he did," said the judge. "Working in the shadows, acting callously yet allowing reunions between loved ones...seeking revenge but later volunteering to help save a town...traveling with and even protecting those he previously had considered enemies..."

"Speaking of that, I'd like to h--" Phoenix stopped himself, glancing over at Edgeworth, who simply gave him a nod. He cleared his throat and then continued. "I'd like to hear your side of things, Mr. Sycamore. According to Luke, you all traveled the globe in search of Azran relics."

"Those were...better times," Sycamore admitted. "Despite my ultimate goal, I did enjoy their company...Layton, Luke, Emmy, Aurora...and even the cat Emmy brought on board. I know Raymond felt the same. I'd like to think the rest did as well. The adventures we experienced, the memories we made, and the people we met...there were times I was able to forget the plot and be present in the moment."

 _I can't imagine how exhausting it must be to live a life of revenge, or to have to fight yourself just to be able to relax._ "Sounds like it was beneficial for everyone...at least up until the point you turned."

Sycamore appeared contrite, breaking eye contact from time to time. "Yes...I couldn't leave behind that side of myself. I regretted what I did...but at the time, my revenge was more important. Or I did my best to convince myself of this. I was constantly warring with myself. The two sides of Desmond Sycamore locked in an eternal battle...one despair, and the other hope...the man who answered the call of death versus the man who fought for life...there was a moment a victor was ultimately declared."

"And what moment was that?"

"It was...after I'd found myself working with Layton and Luke to get around the Sanctuary. I knew how dangerous Azran ruins could be, but I'd let my guard down after solving a particularly challenging puzzle. Regrettably, I had failed to fully disable one of the statues...and it had set its sights on Luke. I don't know what came over me. I had no time to think...I just...acted and..."

Phoenix nodded. "Luke said the statue shot out a burning beam. That must have been painful, being the recipient..."

"I shall spare you the details," Sycamore said. "But yes, it was enough to cast me to the ground. The pain was excruciating. I was certain I would die there...so I told Layton everything concerning our past. He'd forgotten everything...as he should have. He knew it was important to stop Bronev...but I don't think he truly understood why. These events...didn't just impact me, they impacted him too. In the end, I am grateful he was there."

 _They never stopped being brothers, despite Mr. Sycamore's attempts to disrupt that,_ thought Phoenix. "Despite what happened, you were able to catch up with everyone else somehow."

"I...had a change of heart concerning my imminent death. If I was to die, I had to see the greatest Azran puzzle to its conclusion. Layton was certain the answer meant doom, and I could only trust his judgment over Bronev's. Layton was correct, of course...so we all had to work together to disarm the threat born from Bronev's answer to the puzzle. We nearly lost our lives in the process, but were saved by the Azran girl. After that...I should have followed Bronev into prison, but..."

"You ran away."

Sycamore nodded. "It may sound strange, but I'd been in a prison of my own making this past decade...no, these last thirty years. I just wanted to know freedom, true freedom, for once, without the threat of having loved ones taken from me, or the burden of revenge. I wanted to travel the world without a bitter purpose, to meet new people and try new things on my own terms. I wanted...to live. And so I did...for a peaceful few months."

"Until the night your airship crashed," said Phoenix.

"Yes. Suffering the loss of Raymond hurt more than anything, and it closed that chapter of my life. Raymond...was my constant companion, and he did so much for me. In some ways, terrible ways, he was enabling, as difficult as that is to admit. If not for him, I don't believe I would have succeeded in such grandiose plots. They were my ideas, but he went above and beyond in helping them become reality."

"Raymond's death...is this what convinced you to turn yourself in?"

"Not entirely. A chance encounter with Layton gave me the opportunity to reflect on my many misdeeds. I had hurt Layton, and many close to him...yet he still embraced me as a brother. I knew I could not move forward until I had proved myself worthy of his respect, and...the respect of the young girl he had taken in, the girl with whom I had unexpectedly formed a bond. And...after all that I did to those caught up in my plot...they deserved some sort of closure. I could think of no better way than to be tried for my crimes. And so...I decided to turn myself in."

"Which has led us all to this moment," said the judge. "Well, then, does the prosecution have anything else to present? Any further statements?"

"The prosecution has made its position clear," said Edgeworth. "Desmond Sycamore was driven to commit his crimes after suffering multiple losses and tragedies, but this does not absolve him of his actions. He is guilty of all that he stands accused."

"And the defense? Do you have any other statements to make?"

Phoenix nodded. "Yes, Your Honor." He looked at the woman beside him, and then around at the audience. "It is as the prosecution says...Desmond Sycamore has not led a typical life. Losing his family at a young age through cruel circumstances, and then pursuing a happy life only to have that also stolen from him, he believed that revenge was his only remaining course, and was willing to achieve this at any cost."

The audience was quieter this time, but a few whispers could be heard here and there.

"Yet there were moments proving that his old self wasn't completely gone," Phoenix continued. "It is due to this that the outcomes of his schemes were not worse than they could have been. It is the reason he contined to reach out to those who experienced losses of their own, why he reunited a missing person with his family, and why he put himself in harm's way to protect a child, the same child he had recklessly retaliated upon a year prior to that. It is why he agreed to work with others to stop a worldly threat...and it is what led him to turn himself in to the police two weeks ago." He paused. "When I first took this case, I was not out to prove his innocence. But...as a good friend once told me, anyone who stands accused of a crime deserves a fair and proper defense. I hope I have succeeded in this area today, not just for Mr. Sycamore, a man whose motives and actions have proved as complicated as his life, but for everyone impacted in some way by his plot."

"I see," said the judge. "Then it seems we have come to the end of this trial." He turned toward the witness stand. "Mr. Sycamore, it is clear that the system failed you multiple times during your life. You and your brother should have received more consideration and care when your parents were taken from you, yet this did not happen, and you were forced to make a choice that no young child should ever have to make. When your wife and daughter were taken from you, we should have done more in justice's name, yet we did not. I cannot apologize enough to you, but going forward, I will do my part in preventing this outcome for others in a similar situation." The judge started to look more emotional. "I have two young grandsons. I don't see them everyday, but I can't imagine doing anything to ensure that I would never see them again. Mr. Sycamore...your losses were beyond cruel, and I can certainly see how a man would break after finally finding happiness, only to have it seized from him, especially when this echoed a similar traumatic event from his childhood." His expression reverted back to a more serious one. "But the fact of the matter is...we all have choices in this life. Perhaps other paths weren't as clear to you, but you chose a path you knew would injure others. Even if you weren't aware of the actual numbers until you were well into your plot, you chose to continue. While the court sympathizes with you, it cannot condone the harm you have brought upon so many others. As this trial began, you had entered a guilty plea. You knew what you had done, and that there was no escaping the consequences." The judge shook his head. "Enough. I will now render my verdict. This court finds the defendant, Desmond Sycamore...guilty."

The pounding of the gavel did little to mask the great sigh expelled from the direction of the witness stand.

 _I guess...Mr. Sycamore got what he wanted_ , thought Phoenix.

"Since this was a most unusual case," the judge continued, "I am moving the sentencing hearing to tomorrow at ten o'clock."

_Huh? So soon? But I would've thought--_

"Mr. Wright, I can see from your expression that you have many questions. Please see me in my chambers in ten minutes. Mr. Edgeworth, that applies to you as well. This court is dismissed."

"Yes, Your Honor," said Edgeworth.

Phoenix turned to the woman beside him, hesitating. "Um...Mrs. Sycamore, I have to go see the judge, but if I could ask a favor..."

The woman smiled. "There's no need to ask. There is much I have to discuss with my husband, after all..."

Phoenix couldn't help but notice how similar her smile was to Sycamore's. _He truly did see that time as blissful._ "Oh, of course! Thank you. Um, I know we haven't been formally introduced, but if I don't see you later, it was nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Mr. Wright."

* * *

Desmond Sycamore had never been more nervous in his life.

As he was escorted back to the defense's lobby, his mind leapt from thought to thought. How was he going to endure the years in which he was to repay his debt to society? His stomach was already in knots, yet he managed to feel more frantic with each passing second. Was this how Mr. Wright felt before each new trial? And why was he wasting time wondering about that when he had literally just seen a ghost?

The woman he knew in so many ways, clad in the outfit of the young woman he had only met days before. He had witnessed the same scene play out for someone else that first day, and yet, he could hardly accept the truth of it now.

After so many years, Anna Sycamore had returned, and with a message for her husband. It was something he would have given his life and soul to hear, but now that he had taken in her words, he wasn't sure what to do with them, or how to even react to her presence, which in itself was an unexpected and impossible act...

He must have looked as depressed as he felt, because the moment he entered the lobby, he heard "Is that the face you show to me after all these years?"

Surprised, he snapped out of his mood, and saw Maya standing there, still channeling the same woman from before. "A-Anna..."

Anna's expression softened as she took in his appearance. "Hello there."

At a loss for words, Sycamore gazed back at her. "Oh...h-hello."

In an attempt to break through the awkwardness, Anna threaded her fingers through her black tresses. "I would wager this is one look you weren't expecting to see on me."

That finally got a chuckle out of Sycamore. "I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you say?"

"That it becomes you."

Anna smiled in response. "You've always been kind," she said, taking a few steps forward.

Sycamore's expression fell as he followed suit. As he approached her, he broke eye contact. "Not so much these last ten years..."

"Desmond."

Sycamore looked at her as she brought a hand to his cheek. _Warm,_ he thought. _Gentle. I am undeserving of such a gesture at this moment..._

Anna slowly moved her head from side to side. "Don't do that," she softly ordered. "Don't act as though you aren't deserving of love, of kindness. These last ten years, no one has been in need more than you..."

A sigh escaped Sycamore, accompanied by a few tears. "Anna...I've missed you so...and...I'm sorry for what happened back then. I couldn't protect my family as a child, but as a grown man...I'm so sorry I wasn't there...that I didn't return in time..."

"There you go again," Anna said, caressing him still. "Didn't you hear what that prosecutor said? It wasn't your fault. We wanted to surprise you, Millie and I did. We'd found a most wonderful souvenir in our travels. Millie couldn't wait to see your face when she showed it to you. If anything, I'm the one who should apologize. Something was amiss when we returned home, but I ignored my instincts..."

"No." Sycamore shook his head. "Please don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known what would happen."

"That applies to you, as well."

Sycamore moved away, just out of her reach. He turned around, his back to her. "I...I suppose."

"All we wanted to do was to see one another. That is not a crime."

"No..."

Anna came forward then, wrapping her arms around the man's torso. "Oh, Desmond..." she said with a sigh, resting her head against his shoulder. "Desmond, how I've missed you. I've thought about us a lot, about...that last night we were together."

"As have I. Countless times. It was a warm night. I can still recall the scent of your perfume..."

"Yes. Emerald Waves, I believe it was called."

"You were absolutely stunning in your dress," said Sycamore.

Anna smiled. "You told me over dinner...and again as we danced..."

"I was...simply content to be with you. The music, the wine, the way you moved with me..."

"Spending the whole night in your arms," Anna reminisced. "Waking up in your embrace..."

"There is no treasure greater than the memories in my heart," said Sycamore. "I am...blessed...to have made so many memories with you." He couldn't help it; he had started to sob. "I know...I know it could not have lasted forever, but why did it have to end so soon? Just when I had found true happiness..." He shivered as the tears fell again.

"I know," Anna told him. "I was happy too. I never doubted for one moment that I was loved by you, that you would have spent the rest of your life with me. You were a wonderful husband, and a wonderful father as well..."

"But I never...I mean...I was rarely home those last few months."

"You were continuing your education. It was necessary. We'd already discussed that."

"Still...I could have made more of an effort to be home," said Sycamore.

"That is all in the past," Anna said. "We do what we can, we make what choices we are able to with the knowledge we have. You wished to provide a better life for your family. There is no sin in that."

"I suppose..."

"You said you had found happiness. The wonderful thing about happiness is that it is not limited to a single episode within our lives. You can find happiness again in this life, even if you don't believe you can. In fact, I think you are very close to it."

"What do you mean?"

"Your life...it has changed so much these last few months. From attaining your goals, if not exactly in the way you'd planned, to losing Raymond, to reuniting with your family. Happiness can come with change. You and your brother are becoming just as close as you were as children. And...that girl, Flora...I can see the bond that has formed between the two of you."

Sycamore gave a small laugh. "Honestly, now you are sounding like Layton."

Anna chuckled in response. "Well, I am told he is a highly intelligent man. And he is right. Desmond, you realize that the reason you were able to achieve happiness is because you allowed others into your heart. That was true of me, and it was true of Millie. I want nothing more than to see you do the same with the ones currently in your life. Be there for your brother, and be there for that young girl. You have all become family, and I think you know this on some level."

"Yes, you're right," said Sycamore. "But I fear that will impossible after today's verdict..."

"That does pose a problem. But you've always been the creative type. I'm sure...you will find a way."

"I..." Sycamore turned back around as the woman let go. "I pray you're right." Doubt tugged at him again, and he lowered his eyes to the floor. "Anna...are you...disappointed in me? All of the pain and suffering I brought to others...I know that is not the man you married."

"No," she replied. "He isn't. The man I married...he was not lost. I confess...I wish there had been a far more favorable path, a much kinder one...but to think ill of you because you were struggling, because you were in pain...I couldn't do that. It's true that you brought suffering to others, but in some way, you also brought joy. The man named Jean Descole...he could not remain forever on the stage. It was inevitable that Desmond Sycamore would return, that despair would retreat in the presence of hope, and goodness would win out..."

"I don't know...if I believe that..."

"Then tell me...what has brought you here, Desmond? Why are you standing in this chamber, following a case where you have just been declared guilty?"

Sycamore reached up with a hand, lightly touching her cheek. _How many times have I held this face?_ "There was no one in my life more kind than you. Even when I couldn't see the good in myself, when I adamantly refused to do so...you were there, doing your best to convince me. I thought...I thought...'so this is what it is to truly be loved.' I couldn't forgive myself for not saving the woman who opened my eyes. It was...it...you deserved so much better..."

"Desmond..." Anna's expression softened. "It seems I haven't fully convinced you. What happened to Millie...what happened to me...that was not your fault. Only Targent is responsible. Please...mourn if you must, but do not waste the rest of your life looking backward. I am happy to be in your heart, but please...don't hold back. Live your life...for you...and for everyone else in your life. I...I will be watching over you..." She stood on her toes, planting a kiss on his cheek, and then moved back. "I want nothing more than to be with you...but...my time here is limited."

"I understand."

"Take care, Desmond. Millie, Raymond and I...we all wish you the best..." Before she could complete the phrase, she had started to collapse.

Sycamore caught her as she descended. "Anna...?" When he pulled her back up, however, he found that he was holding an unconscious Maya Fey. "Ms. Fey..." he murmured. "I thank you..." He carried her over to the bench, carefully positioning her across the seat. He then moved back, taking a moment. He sniffled, drying his tears. After a deep sigh, he lifted his head and turned around...only realizing then that the two weren't alone.

Three familiar faces were there, all visitors from the previous three days. Clark Triton, Oswald Whistler, and Randall Ascot were studying Sycamore with expressions different from the ones they had shown him earlier. There was a softness to Clark's usual serious expression, while Whistler did his best to act as though he had no stake in the outcome of the trial. Randall himself appeared uncertain, but did not seem to emit any degree of hostility.

"Ah..." Sycamore went from stunned to timid within a short breath. "H-hello there. I...I confess I am ill-prepared to receive anyone at the moment, but I imagine you have much to say, so I will do my best to respond."

Clark spoke first. "I thought nothing of it then, but there were times Luke seemed to be protecting you...or, perhaps, Hershel Layton. I never knew that the great Desmond Sycamore was the one who caused my family and town so much suffering and fear. I knew of a 'bad man' who was seeking Azran relics at any cost, but Luke was careful to leave details vague...especially surrounding Desmond Sycamore's disappearance. For a long time, I thought that Jean Descole had killed you...I suppose, in a way, that was true..."

"Clark..."

"At times I still struggle to understand. You had lost all hope. Yet, after experiencing the pain of your losses firsthand, you still tried to kill my son. You nearly robbed a father of his child, despite having been subjected to that hell youself. Even if it wasn't planned..."

Sycamore's expression was filled with genuine shame. "I know. It was wrong, and you have every right to hate me for it. Had I stopped for a moment to think, I would not have done what I had done. I don't know what else to say, except that I'm sorry. Out of all my sins, I regret this one the most. I always will."

"I know," Clark replied. "I believe that is what led you to protect him at the potential cost of your own life. For all your terrible acts, you are compelled to compensate. You are a complicated man, Desmond, but that is not entirely without its benefits."

"I don't know if that is something to be celebrated..."

"No," Oswald told him. He was finally showing some emotion, looking a bit conflicted...yet determined. "Mostly, we are attempting to make sense of your actions. Even though I participated in your plot, there were moments something tugged at the corner of my mind. That mysterious connection...I had no idea. I never knew that the reason you sympathized is because you had experienced a grief much like my own. You kept yourself together, and kept your true self well-hidden. I am not pleased with how it all turned out, but perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. I had become...far too emotionally dependent upon my own daughter, even as she was dying. I had unintentionally placed one more burden upon her...I regret this. After Ambrosia, I was...able to reflect in my cell, and reevaluate my life. Melina was gone, but that didn't mean that I had to stop living."

"I...I see."

"I've reflected too," Randall said, stepping forward. "At least, during this trial. As a participant in your plot for Monte d'Or, I couldn't help but wonder why you picked me. Why you were so insistent upon getting me to believe that I had been betrayed. It was more than just manipulating someone into the role of Masked Gentleman. Anyone could have played that part, after all. But you saw something in me, specifically. I don't think it was the mere fact that Henry and Angela were seeking me. Mr. Wright opened my eyes when he said...you had a tendency to reach out to those who had experienced their own losses. That's when I realized...you weren't simply trying to hurt me, though you still managed to do just that. You were trying to connect with me, and...recruit me as a witness to your own story."

Sycamore looked at him, perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"The storybooks you instructed me to hide within the Reunion Inn...they told of betrayals. I thought since you had lied about my having been betrayed, that the stories were also lies. But the truth is, it was you all along. You were the one betrayed...by your own father, by the organization, Targent. Even the Masked Gentleman himself...he was another part of your story."

"Y-Yes...I suppose he was."

Randall shook his head. "Please don't misunderstand. I am still trying to process the rest, and I am still angry with how you treated me, but...it is no longer a mystery to me how a man of your nature can be so quick to hurt others. I lived with the pain of 'betrayal' for a mere two or three months. The rage I felt within such a short time frame...I can only imagine how you felt over the course of ten years."

"I am sorry," Sycamore said. "I truly am. I was blinded by my own situation...but that did not give me the right to force you into a similar one. Of course you would be in shock from the truth of learning who you truly were, and susceptible to anything I said. I am...honestly surprised you didn't strike me more than once."

Randall chuckled. "Well, I have always been more talented at swordplay than hand-to-hand combat. The knuckles of my hand sting, just thinking about it. Anyway, we wanted to tell you that we have a better understanding of what happened now..."

"So much has been revealed these last few days," said Oswald. "I can finally put to rest these doubts that have plagued me since my own arrest."

"My own doubts have been quelled as well," Clark chimed in. "The doubt that I was doing all that I could to protect my family, the doubt that I made the right decision in resigning as mayor, and...the doubt that the man who threatened my family and wreaked havoc on my town could be redeemed in any way. I wish you the best from this point forward, Desmond. I believe...you could use it."

"Yes...you're right," Sycamore said sadly, and then forced a smile. "Thank you. Thank you all. I was...not expecting this meeting, or its outcome. As I serve my sentence, I hope to remember this moment...and the kindness that still exists in the hearts of men."

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
